## The Project Gutenberg eBook of Reminiscences of a Private, Company "G", First Arkansas Regiment Infantry: May, 1861 to 1865

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Title: Reminiscences of a Private, Company "G", First Arkansas Regiment Infantry: May, 1861 to 1865

Author: William E. Bevens

Release date: January 14, 2021 [eBook #64285]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Credits: David Tipple and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REMINISCENCES OF A PRIVATE, COMPANY "G", FIRST ARKANSAS REGIMENT INFANTRY: MAY, 1861 TO 1865 ***

Transcriber’s Notes:

- A small number of obvious typos have been corrected. Except for these corrections the spelling and punctuation of the book have not been changed.
- Two words and a complete line appear to be missing from the source book. An ellipsis in square brackets, [ … ] has been used to show where these occur.
- A list of illustrations has been added by the transcriber.

# REMINISCENCES
OF A PRIVATE

COMPANY “G”
FIRST ARKANSAS REGIMENT
INFANTRY

By W. E. BEVENS

MAY, 1861 TO 1865

## List of Illustrations

|  | Page
W. E. BEVENS—1861. |  | 2
W. E. BEVENS—1912. |  | 3
THREE VETERANS OF COMPANY “G”. |  | 4
CAPT. A. C. PICKETT. |  | 9
L. C. GAUSE. |  | 21
CLAY LOWE. |  | 22
LYMAN B. GILL. |  | 50
LON STEADMAN. |  | 55
BEN ADLER. |  | 64
W. T. BARNES. |  | 67
ROBT. D. BOND. |  | 72
THAD KINMAN, ED DICKINSON, BEN ADLER. |  | 74

[Pg 2]

W. E. BEVENS—1861.

[Pg 3]

W. E. BEVENS—1912.

[Pg 4]

THREE VETERANS OF COMPANY “G”
Left to Right: John Cathey, W. E. Bevens, John R. Loftin, Sr.

[Pg 5]

Reminiscences Of A Private.

When our children come from other states and from foreign lands to visit Jacksonport, the old home of their parents, they find the pitiful remnant of a village. Streets overgrown with weeds, dilapidated wooden cottages, a tumbled down brick court house, meet their eyes. One or two well-kept homes and a prosperous general store only emphasize the prevailing air of decay. The visitors may walk a mile down the road to the old town Elizabeth, and find no trace of habitation. The persimmon, the paw paw and the muscadine flourish in spaces that were once busy streets. When they remember that this place lacked only one vote of being made the capital of the state they may ponder on the uncertainty of human destiny.

But in 1861 Jacksonport was an important town. It was the county seat when Jackson county was much larger than it is now. Woodruff was a part of it and the whole formed a wealthy section of the state, the rich “bottoms” producing the finest cotton. Jacksonport was situated where Black River flows into White River, and was the center of distribution for many counties. At low water, which was the greater part of the year, it was at the head of navigation and people came from fifty miles to trade there, hauling overland all freight for Batesville and upper points.

It was then one of the great river towns, and one of the most fascinating occupations of my boyhood was watching the steamboats. We had two mail steamers, side-wheelers, up-to-date, with all kinds of accommodations for passengers and freight, and I have seen nine steamers loading and unloading at once. One packet from Louisville, one from St. Louis, two from Memphis, two from Upper Black River, and two from New Orleans. I [Pg 6] have seen one of the last, “The Seminole,” with a load of fifteen hundred bales of cotton.

At that time Jacksonport had a population of twenty-five hundred. The surrounding farms and plantations, cultivated by negro slaves, were owned by the Tunstalls, Waddells, Robinsons, Gardners and others. Old fashioned Southern hospitality prevailed in town and country, and we who were fortunate enough to live there “Befo de wah” think no other can ever equal it, no other town can ever boast of such beautiful girls, such handsome boys, such noble women, such brilliant men.

When the war cry sounded, Captain A. C. Pickett, a fine lawyer and an old Mexican War veteran, made up our company, and called it the “Jackson Guards.” This company to the number of one hundred and twenty was formed of the best boys of the county. Sons of plantation-owners, lawyers, doctors, druggists, merchants,—the whole South rose as one man, to defend its rights. The young men, many of us barely twenty years of age, knew nothing of war. We thought we could take our trunks and dress suits. We besieged Capt. Pickett and nearly drove him to distraction with questions as to how many suits we should take. He nearly paralyzed us by telling us to leave behind all fancy clothes, and to take only one suit, a woolen top shirt and two suits of underwear.

The noble women of Jacksonport made our flag. The wife of Judge Robinson bought the silk in Memphis. Mrs. Densford made the stars and all the ladies, old and young, worked on it, for love of those who were to bear it in battle.

On the Fifth of May, 1861 we were ready. It was a gloomy day. The rain poured in torrents, but our company formed and marched to the Presbyterian church where the flag was to be presented. Every living soul in town was there, streets, yard and church overflowed with people, notwithstanding the rain. We had seats reserved for us, and felt very grand as we watched the young ladies on the platform. We thought they were the sweetest girls living, and the most beautiful. Misses Mary Thomas Caldwell, Fannie Board, Pauline Hudson, and others were [Pg 7] there. Miss Caldwell presented the colors with a short and touching speech. Sydney S. Gause received it in the name of the company, replying beautifully. There was not a dry eye in the throng. Mothers were there who saw their sons perhaps for the last time. Fathers bade adieu to noble boys whom they had brought up to manly deeds of honor. Sisters separated from brothers. Sweethearts gave farewell to those whom they would love unto death. Who would not be moved to tears? We marched to the boat, and on the bank we stopped to give a last embrace to mother, wife sister, sweetheart. That spot was hallowed with the tears that dropped upon the ground.

The boat was the Mary Patterson, named for an Augusta lady, wife of one of our great lawyers. Its owner, Captain Morgan Bateman with great generosity, offered to take us to Memphis. He was a man of commanding ability, or he could never have handled so many wild young men. He never received a cent for his liberality, but he did not care. (He afterwards came back and made up a company of his own, with the assistance of his brother who went with him.)

When we were on board at last the boat pulled off from shore, amid waving handkerchiefs and shouts, “Good-bye, good-bye,” and no one present ever forgot that day.

We had with us an Italian Band which had come up from New Orleans and became stranded in Jacksonport. It was a great band and afforded us much pleasure until we got to Memphis.

At every town, landing and woodpile there was a crowd to cheer us. At Grand Glaize there happened a near-tragedy, which was averted by Captain Pickett and Captain Morgan. When we reached Des Arc, from which place we expected to march overland to Little Rock, Captain Pickett received a telegram from the governor to send in by wire our votes for Colonel of the Regiment and then proceed to Memphis. By Captain’s Pickett’s advice our company voted for Flournay. The rest of the Regiment voted for Fagin, who was elected. Fagin [Pg 8] ever afterward felt hard toward Captain Pickett.

We arrived at Memphis Thursday, May 9th. We marched to the Fair Grounds to await the arrival of the rest of the Regiment, and were put into the same quarters with an Irish Regiment from Tennessee.

I was put on guard inside the Fair Grounds. It rained all night, I had on new pump-soled boots, and being by mistake, left on duty, these tight boots caused me considerable pain. When the sergeant asked me how long I had been on duty I answered “all night.” He informed me that I should have been on guard only two hours. I thought it a part of the game to stay on all night. So much for being a soldier fool!

The next day we were organized and officers were elected for the twelve months. They were.

- A. C. Pickett, Captain.
- L. C. Gause, First Lieutenant.
- L. L. Moore, Second Lieutenant.
- George Payne, Third Lieutenant.
- James Hunter, Orderly Sergeant.
- William Densford, First Sergeant.
- John R. Loftin, Second Sergeant.
- Peter Bach, Third Sergeant.
- Clay Lowe, Fourth Sergeant.
- John M. Waddell, First Corporal.
- Henry Clements, Second Corporal.
- Sam Shoup, Third Corporal.
- W. E. Bevens, Fourth Corporal.

[Pg 9]

CAPT. A. C. PICKETT
First Captain of Company “G”, First Arkansas Infantry

When the captain took charge there were only two men in the company who knew anything about military tactics or could even keep step. We stayed in Memphis four days. On Sunday afternoon with our new banner proudly waving, we marched through Memphis to the depot of the Memphis and Charleston Railway, where we entrained for Richmond, Va. Along the line of march were thousands of people and at every station was shown such enthusiasm as was never before known in the South. Everyone came down to greet us. Old men and women, young girls, even the negroes. We were showered with bouquets. We were delayed at different stations by the crowds. They came to see the Arkansas Troops, and to [Pg 10] hear Captain Bob Crockett speak. He was a conspicuous character from the manner of his dress, and also a celebrity from being a grandson of old David Crockett, hence was often called on for a speech. On one occasion, however, some of the soldiers asked several citizens to call for Private J. R. Fellows, one of the best orators in the South. He so far eclipsed Captain Crockett that the latter ever after took second place.

We passed through Knoxville and Bristol, debatable territory because Etheridge Brownlow and Andy Johnson, Union men of great ability and influence, lived in these places. To say there were hot times in these old towns would be putting it mildly—“red hot” would be about right.

At Bristol John M. Waddell took sick and I was detailed to stay with him at the hotel to which he was carried. He was delirious and kept calling for his mother, who lived in North Carolina. He was a Christian boy, and was ready to die, but how natural to want his mother in his distress. But he got better and we resumed our journey to Richmond, where we rejoined our regiment. We camped in the fair ground and were reviewed often by President Davis at dress parade.

I think that to him we must have looked very cheap indeed. We did not know what discipline was, and resented being shown. The boys used to steal through the lines and spend most of their time in the city. Bill Barnes drew some pictures of “Company G in Richmond,” which caused quite a little trouble at home.

We went from Richmond to Fredericksburg and there camped in the city awhile. We then moved to Brooks Station, and at this camp had cadets from Richmond to drill us. And I should say they did drill us! Eight hours a day, with a big gun, knapsack and accoutrements weighing us down, the hot sun blazing over us. How we did perspire! We were not used to such strenuous exercise. The town boys, clerks and young fellows could stand it better than the robust country boys, and that seemed queer to us.

At this camp John M. Waddell took sick with measles. [Pg 11] The Regiment lost over fifty men from this disease. Waddell was discharged and went home. After his recovery he joined a North Carolina Regiment, and served with them through the war. He Was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word. We hated to lose him. From Brooks Station we went to Aquia Creek, and from there to Marlboro Point on the Potomac. We camped at a point where this beautiful stream was four miles wide. W. M. Maltens, our company color-bearer waded into the river and unfurled our flag, the handsome silk one given us by the Jacksonport ladies. “Jackson Guards” was very plain upon it, and it was displayed in full sight of the enemy’s war vessels. We were lined up on the bank to defend our colors. This shows how green we were in knowledge of warfare and we realized it later.

From Fredericksburg, five companies of our Regiment and five companies of Col. Bates’ Second Tennessee Regiment were under Col. Cary. He was a West Pointer, a fine man and officer, but he certainly did drill us eight hours every day. During drill our orderly sergeant, a regular army man, used to prompt us when new moves were given. One morning he was angry at Captain Pickett. When Col. Cary gave the command “Double quick by companies” there was no prompting and Captain Pickett failed to repeat the command. The sergeant had his revenge for we were double-quicking by fours to the line on the right and proceeded by ourselves. Col. Cary shouted “Captain Pickett, where are you going with your company?” amid the laughter of the rest of the regiment.

At this camp Bill Shackelford used to go fishing for crabs in the Potomac. He would miss roll-call and have to serve extra duty. The boys begged him to stop this but he said if he could get crabs to eat he did not mind extra duty. One night Bill had some fun at the expense of the officer whose duty it was to pass through the tents and see that all were in bed. We had a big Sibley tent in which twenty-two men slept. As the officer passed through the tent, Bill who was a ventriloquist, squealed like a pig. Of course the officer looked everywhere for the pig. As he passed to the other side of the tent Bill [Pg 12] barked like a dog. Then the officer asked for the man that did it. Of course all were asleep and knew nothing about it. He said he would arrest the entire company if it occurred again. Bill did not try it again.

One day Clay Lowe had cooked some corn-bread and left it on the table, feeling that he had done a good piece of work. After dinner a big man in uniform stepped up and broke open a piece of bread. Clay was about to call him to account in words not very choice, when the big man explained that he was General Holmes, commander of the troops. Clay had to beg his pardon and salute the General, and the General in return complimented Clay on his bread.

At this camp we had jumping matches. Bob Bond was our champion and no one could beat him in the whole command of one thousand troops, and he was never beaten in the army.

We also gave dances, and tied handkerchiefs on the arms of the smallest boys to take the part of ladies in making up square dances. Joe Hamilton, Rich Hayden and Billie Barnes were as fine musicians as any and we often had hilarious times along the Potomac.

On July 17th, 1861, we were ordered to cook three days’ rations, and be ready at daylight to join our regiment and march to Manassas Gap. We marched forty-seven miles and on July 21, were camped in an orchard at the extreme right of our army, with orders to be ready at a moment’s notice. We were in line of battle all afternoon and chafed to be in the fight. We could hear the cannonading. It seems that the courier who was bringing our orders to move at once was captured and we did not get the command. “The third time is the charm” and finally the third courier brought news of the battle with orders to double-quick eight miles. We made this in one hour and forty minutes. On this hot July day the red dust stirred up by our running made us look like red men. We hardly knew the features of our file leader. While on this run we saw some sizzling looking things streaming through the air. One of the boys said, “Captain, what are [Pg 13] those things going through the air?” Captain Pickett replied, “You damned fool, you will know soon.”

We got there in the nick of time. We were thrown into line of battle and could see in front of us the enemy, with glistening bayonets, forward marching, line after line of them. We had a four gun battery, belonging to Holmes’ Brigade, commanded by Captain Walker. He was ordered to place his guns on a small hill in our front. He unlimbered and was ready for action. We were ordered to load our guns and lie down behind the battery to protect it if charged. The captain gave the order to fire upon some Yankees who were advancing boldly. As he gave the order he was sitting on his big horse with his feet across the horse’s neck. The first shot did not reach the spot; so he got down, sighted the gun himself, and got back on his horse to watch the result. As the shot plowed through the enemy’s ranks it looked like cutting wheat, and the Captain said: “Give them hell.” The four guns made roads through them and with the Infantry on the other flank they could not stand the fire. The Yankees broke in every direction and never did stop. As this was their last stand we moved forward, and the Black Horse Cavalry passed. This was the finest cavalry I ever saw. All the horses were black and the uniforms of the men were handsome to behold. After the Cavalry Johnson, Beauregard and President Davis with all their staff, were near us, and the sight was beautiful. We turned the flank of the enemy and the Black Horse Cavalry did the rest. The first battle of Manassas was a great battle and a perfect success.

After the break we were ordered to be down in line of battle and await orders. Part of the Washington Battery was near us. This was an organization of fine boys from New Orleans. After fighting all day they had become separated, part of their battery being in one part of the field, and part in another. After the battle they were hunting their comrades and trying to get the full battery together. Such chatter! Such individual accounts of the battle! They told us of their share in the fight. How they fought the enemy from rear and front and side, and how the Yankees had run off! It was inside history of [Pg 14] the battle from privates who were in it. The whole truth of the first battle of Manassas is this: It was fought by undisciplined troops, without previous experience in battle, on a field they had never trod before. They fought as individuals, and if the officers had not been with them they would have fought just the same.

This was proved, for had they been disciplined troops they would have surrendered when cut off from their command, but not having any better sense they did not know when they were whipped. On this field they fought regular army troops with all the advantage of years and experience. Even our General was doubtful and thought they could not cope with the great army of Scott. But when he saw the Southern boys in action, he saw what, to this day, is the wonder of the world, that we were not to be whipped in six months.

This battle was a hard rap to those who intended to profit by it had it gone the other way. The Grand Army left Washington commanded by the invincible General Scott, having placards on their hats bearing the motto, “On to Richmond.” Congressmen, with their wives followed, together with the elite of Washington, all riding in carriages. They also wore badges with the ever-ready slogan, “On to Richmond.” They had trunks plastered with the same motto. They carried champagne and were ready for the celebration of a great fete when they should have witnessed the downfall of the Confederacy. Before the battle it was a holiday for them, with their wine, and their hope of an easy rout of the rebels, and the pleasant anticipation of the capture of soldiers and congressmen of the Confederacy. But after the battle—ah, it was no holiday then! What a blow to their pride was the result. How they tore back to Washington. Their own account of the first battle of Manassas was truly pitiful. We could have easily gone into Washington, but at that time we did not want to go into their territory, all we desired was to defend our own homes, property and states, which were ours according to the constitution.

At daylight we marched to Dumfries, thirty miles back from the station, then to Culpepper court house, and [Pg 15] from there to the pine thicket back from Evansport. With us were Captain Walker’s battery (Captain Walker afterwards became General of Artillery) and the Thirteenth North Carolina Infantry. With their assistance, working at night with great secrecy, we built batteries to blockade the Potomac, which was only a mile and a half wide at this point. We built three batteries in one mile and mounted large siege guns. The enemy was greatly astonished on the morning we cut the pine thicket and laid our guns open to view.

We next made sail boats and tug boats and schooners. These captured a three masted vessel. When the tugs came towing it to shore we went out and got it. Later we had a hard time finding a sailor to set the sails. Finally one was discovered in our own company, and as soon as he got on the vessel he ran up the rigging like a genuine sailor. We found the rooms of the captured vessel very fancy. It had a piano on board, and a good deal of nice grub. We unloaded her and then burned her.

We certainly did blockade that river and stop transportation to Washington by way of the Potomac. Then the Yankees built a railroad on the opposite side back from the river and supplied the gap in that manner. We used to bombard the men over there and kill them and their six mule teams. This caused consternation as you may guess.

A small yacht with two on board ran the blockade. Our batteries opened up on them. The balls exploded above and around them, sometimes splashing the water so that we could not see them for the spray. For awhile it seemed as if we had them, but they got through. The yacht was so small that we could not hit it. When they got by, the men waved their hats, as much as to say, “Goodbye”, but they never tried to repeat the performance.

One night the enemy ran up a creek by the upper battery, where we had a schooner out and away from the river. In the darkness they passed our guards and burned the schooner. The guards were new recruits and very green. They sent to headquarters to ask what they could do. Of course the Yanks had plenty of time to get [Pg 16] back to the Potomac. We built huts out of logs, placing them in the side of the hill and roofing them with a foot and a half of earth to keep out the rain. A few of the boys had tents, but I think our log huts were more comfortable, for we covered the floors over with straw. We passed most of the winter here. Our Maryland boys used to cross the river in skiffs at night to visit their homes, and return before daylight.

The Second Tennessee, commanded by Colonel Bates, camped along with us that winter. One day Colonel Bates ordered some work done which did not agree with the dignity of his men. They refused to do it, saying they “were gentle,” and asking him to resign. He at once wrote out his resignation and gave it to them. He told them he would as soon be a private as be an officer. That a private must obey, and he was as willing to obey any officer over him as they should be to obey an officer over them. He was a great man, and a fine speaker. At the close of his speech they tore up his resignation and re-elected him colonel.

Colonel Fagin once ordered some boys of our company to set up his tent but they refused. They came back to the company and told us about it, also informed Captain Pickett who went to Colonel Fagin and got them out of it.

So much for raw undisciplined troops.

Christmas was at hand. Our first Christmas in a soldier’s camp! How homesick we were as we thought of the people at home and wondered how they were spending Christmas. Here were their boys fifteen hundred miles from them, living in dark huts, wading snow a foot and a half deep. We did not know that the time would come when these dark, rude huts would seem luxurious quarters.

Our mess was composed of George Thomas, Clay Lowe, Bob Bond and myself. George had been left behind at Fredericksburg, where he was ill for some time. He and a private from another company decided to come to camp and spend Christmas with the boys. They left the train and tramped a mile and a half to surprise the mess, arriving in the nick of time. George said they could not [Pg 17] bring us turkey, so they brought some whiskey and eggs. They began beating eggs early Christmas morning, and they made a huge pan full of egg-nog. We invited the officers and our friends to take some with us. In the evening the boys went for Col. Fagin and invited him to drink egg-nog. By that time they were pretty full and Clay Lowe told Col. Fagin that he wanted him to understand that he was “Fifth Sergeant of Company G.” He succeeded in impressing the Colonel with his rank. Then everyone began to make things lively.

I did not touch the egg-nog, therefore did not enjoy their hilarity. I left the hut, found Sam Shoup in his hut, and we went out and sat by the fire thinking we were away from the crowd. But the boys did not intend to let us off so easily. When we came back into the hut we could not see very well. The cabin was dark, as the only light came from the doorway, and the snow had blinded us. The boys made a rush for us. I got into a dark corner, and after they were all in we both ran out. They caught Sam, but failed to get me.

Clay Lowe, followed by about twenty-five of the boys, went down to the middle of the company grounds and commenced to make a speech, which he could do so well. Some of the boys, not wishing Clay to have all the glory, put John Loftin on the stump to make an address and he began: “My friends, I am not as eloquent as Clay, but I speak more to the point.”

That evening at dress parade, Sam Shoup as corporal had to march out and present arms, reporting two commissioned officers, four non-commissioned officers, and twenty-seven privates drunk. The rest of the regiment was there, and to our consternation, we were ordered to cook three days’ rations and be ready to march at daylight. The order read that any private who straggled or failed to keep up with the command would be court martialed.

When we stopped late next evening on the march, Clay was nearly dead and could hardly walk, from the effect of the Christmas spree. Colonel Fagin rode along by our company and seeing how Clay was said, “Hello, Fifth Sergeant of Company G, how do you feel?” Clay [Pg 18] replied, “Colonel, I am damned dry; how are you?”

December 26, 1861, we reached Aquia Creek and went into winter quarters in log huts and tents. Here we had “Sunday Soldiering.” We were close to Fredericksburg, and could order what we wanted to eat. Confederate money was good and we could grab things cheap with it. Fifty cents a gallon for shelled oysters; twenty-five cents a pound for butter; pies and cakes every day. Think of such grub for a soldier! But, ah, to stay in the snow, eighteen inches deep, and guard the Potomac river all night! No shelter, but a corn stalk house; no fire, but a driftwood blaze, not very bright either, as it would be a signal for the enemy to cannonade. That was like war and soldier duty.

We had three points to guard on the river, one on the island with battery, and one at the lower end of the line. It required a whole company for all points at night, since the guard had to be relieved every twenty minutes. Otherwise he would have been frozen by the snow and sleet which swept across the Potomac.

One night a squad from our company under a sergeant was ordered to the island, which was only guarded at night. We had to cross over in a flat boat. The evening before supplies had been sent to the island for the use of the Battery Company and they had failed to haul them. The squad on the lower part of the guard line found them, all unused, in a pile on the landing. The night was bitter cold, the snow was deep, the wind blowing a gale, no wood was in sight. The supplies were bacon. It was good to eat, and in this emergency it was good to burn, so the boys proceeded to burn it. Dawn revealed other things besides bacon. They discovered two jugs of red liquor, which they immediately confiscated. At daylight they were ordered to camp two miles away and proceeded to march—and drink on empty stomachs until the whole squad was drunk. We, on the upper part of the guard line, had to wait in the snow and wind until they came up, for all must report in camp together. We did not know what caused their delay, but we were in no pious [Pg 19] frame of mind when we saw them coming, wabbling from side to side, yelling like Commanches. The officers with us were red-headed and said things to that squad that “were bad”.

But the boys from the lower end knew how dry the officers were after being out all night, so they offered the jug of snake bite medicine. The officers found it so good they did not let it go in a hurry. After that the privates could not refuse for fear of making the boys angry. By the time we reached camp almost everybody was overcome. The officers went to sleep, and when they awoke they forgot all about discipline. So nobody suffered but the Battery fellows, and they could never prove who captured their supplies.

Sometimes a company would buy a barrel of oysters, take it to their hut and open it, and find in the center a five gallon jug of red rye. It was so concealed to pass the provost guard on train. But the boys did even worse. Seven of them from other commands, went to Fredericksburg, bought a coffin and filled it with jugs. With sad faces and measured steps they carried it solemnly to the train. But the joke was too good to keep. The boys unscrewed the lid and yelled at the guard. Of course, when the train returned no one could name the offenders.

But our “Sunday Soldiering” did not last long. The regiment was composed of one year troops, who now re-enlisted for three years, or for the war. The re-enlisted men were ordered to rendezvous at Memphis, to reorganize the regiment, but later were ordered to Corinth, Mississippi.

The Virginia people had been good to us, and had tried to make us feel at home. Some of the boys had gone into society at Fredericksburg, and found it hard to part from their new friends. George (my old friend, George Thomas) “had it mighty bad.” He said to me, “Bill, I must go to Fredericksburg to see my girl. Will you cook my three days’ rations? I’ll meet you at the train tomorrow.” “But Pard, how will you get off?” “I’ll ask Col. Fellows.” He went to Colonel Fellows, who was in charge that day and told his tale of woe. The colonel was in [Pg 20] deep sympathy with the boy (perhaps he had had the disease himself sometime,) and agreed to help him. George went to Fredericksburg, and the next day I saw him there with his girl. Our train pulled out, I yelled at him, but still he lingered. They gazed and gazed at each other, and it seemed that George did not have the nerve to tear himself away. Finally they parted and by hard running he caught the train and stood waving to her until we were out of sight. The mails were kept hot after that. Poor George was killed at Atlanta. He was the bravest man I ever knew, and if he had lived, would have made that girl a noble husband.

March 17, 1862, at Corinth, Mississippi, the re-organization of the regiment took place. The newly elected officers of Company G were:

- Samuel Shoup, Captain.
- A. T. Watchell, First Lieutenant.
- Clay Lowe, Second Lieutenant.
- John R. Loftin, Third Lieutenant.
- W. B. Densford, First Sergeant.
- Henry Clements, Second Sergeant.
- W. H. Reid, Third Sergeant.
- George Spaulder, Fourth Sergeant.
- Thomas Davis, First Corporal.
- John W. Baird, Second Corporal.
- T. S. Logan, Third Corporal.
- Forrest Dillard, Fourth Corporal.

We camped at Corinth, Mississippi, and the army was under General Beauregard until General Albert Sydney Johnston arrived. April 4th we marched to Shiloh, arriving there April 5th. The constant rains had made the roads so bad that we had to pull the cannon by hand as the horses mired in the mud. But by this time we were used to hardships, and nothing discouraged that superb commander, General Albert Sydney Johnston. Every soldier loved him and was ready to follow him to the death. At the battle of Shiloh we were placed in the Gibson Brigade, Braggs’ Division. On the night before the battle the Medical Department ordered six men from each company to report to headquarters for instructions.

[Pg 21]

L. C. GAUSE
First Lieutenant, Company “G”, First Arkansas Infantry

[Pg 22]

CLAY LOWE.
Second Lieutenant, Company “G”, First Ark. Infantry]

[Pg 23]

I was one of the six to report from our company. The Surgeon General ordered us to leave our guns in camp and follow behind the company at six paces, as an infirmary corps to take care of the wounded. We reported our instructions to Captain Shoup, telling him we would not leave our guns, as we intended to fight. After hard pleading Captain Shoup consented. We took our guns and also looked after the wounded.

At four o’clock in the morning we began the march on the enemy. Each man had forty cartridges, all moving accoutrements and three days’ rations. General Johnston was cheered as he rode by our command and I remember his words as well as if they had been today, “Shoot low boys; it takes two to carry one off the field.”

Before we started Captain Scales of the Camden Company, begged his negro servant to stay in camp at Corinth, but the old negro would not leave his master. When we were in line of battle the captain again begged the negro to return to camp, but he refused to go. Just after the last appeal the fight began. A cannon ball whizzed through the air and exploded, tearing limbs from trees, wounding the soldiers. One man fell dead in front of the old negro. Then there was a yell, and old Sam shouted, “Golly, Marster, I can’t stand this,” and set out in a run for Corinth.

We moved forward with shot and shell, sweeping everything before us. We drove the officers from their hot coffee and out of the tents, capturing their camp and tents. Captain Shoup and John Loftin and Clay Lowe each got a sword. In the quartermaster’s tent we found thousands of dollars in crisp, new bills, for they had been paying off the Yankee soldiers.

Thad Kinman of the 7th Arkansas, who was under Ellenburg, quartermaster department, had loaded a chest into a wagon when he was ordered to “throw that stuff away.” He told us afterwards, “That was one time that I was sick,” but Ellenburg would not let him keep it.

Our command moved steadily forward for a mile or more. The Yankees had time to halt the fleeing ones, form a line of infantry and make a stand in an old road in a thicket. We were to the left of the thicket, fighting all the time in this part of the field. I saw Jim Stimson [Pg 24] fall, and being on the Infirmary Corps, I went to him. I cut his knapsack loose and placed it under his head, tied my handkerchief about his neck, and then saw that he was dead. I took up my gun again, when in front I saw a line of Yankees two thousand strong, marching on the flank. I could see the buttons on their coats. I thought I would get revenge for my dead comrade, so I leveled beside a tree, took good aim at a Yankee, and fired. About that time the Yankees fronted and fired. Hail was nothing to that rain of lead. I looked around and found only four of our company. One was dead, two were wounded and I was as good as dead I thought, for I had no idea I could ever get away. To be shot in the back was no soldier’s way, so I stepped backward at a lively pace until I got over the ridge and out of range, assisting the wounded boys at the same time. I had not heard the command to oblique to the right and close up a gap, and that was how we four happened to be alone in the wood. But I did some running then, found my regiment at the right of the thicket and fell into rank. When I got there the company was in a little confusion through not understanding a command, whether they were to move forward or oblique to right. Captain Shoup thought his men were wavering, so he stepped in front of the company, unsheathed his new sword and told the boys to follow him. He had scarcely finished with the words when a bullet struck his sword and went through wood and steel. The boys were red-headed. They told him he did not have to lead them. They were ready to go anywhere. So we went forward into the hottest of the battle where the roar of musketry was incessant, and the cannonading fairly shook the ground. Men fell around us as leaves from the trees. Our regiment lost two hundred and seventy, killed, wounded and captured. The battle raged all day and when night came the enemy had been pushed back to the verge of the Tennessee river. But our victory had been won at a great price, in the loss of our beloved General, Albert Sydney Johnston, who was killed early in the action.

General Beauregard, next in command, succeeded [Pg 25] Johnston, and the battle opened again at daylight the next morning. During the night the enemy had been strongly re-inforced, and our men were steadily pressed back.

John Cathey, John R. Loftin, Waddell and I were among the wounded. We were sent to the field hospital several miles back in the wood. When the Surgeon General went to work on me he gave me a glass of whiskey, saying it would help me bear the pain. I told him I would not drink it. He then handed me a dose of morphine. I refused that. He looked me squarely in the face, saying, “Are you a damned fool?”

Our men, fighting stubbornly all the while, were pushed back by superior force through and beyond the Yankee camps we had captured so easily the day before, and at last retreated to Corinth, amidst a terrible storm of rain and sleet. We had lost about ten thousand men. That was the beginning of our real soldiering and the greatest battle we had been in. About thirty thousand men were killed, wounded and captured in those two days, the loss on each side being fifteen thousand.

At Corinth we awaited re-inforcements and prepared to renew the struggle. The Yankee forces advanced to Farmington, and we had a little more fighting. They captured one of our outposts, then we drove them back to their lines. Colonel Fellows was always on the front line. At this battle he plunged after some cavalry, following them he struck low, boggy ground. He got stuck in the mud and lost his hat, but succeeded in capturing the enemy.

We kept heavy guards at night. One night eighteen of our company were put on out-post, but our cavalry was still further out. George Thomas and I were stationed inside a fence row. We were told not to fire, and we were to be relieved before daybreak. We were not relieved however, and when day came we found ourselves only a short distance from the Yankee breastworks. We could have kept concealed by the grass and bushes, but George, who knew not the meaning of fear, stood in his corner of the fence-row. As he watched the Yankees walking their [Pg 26] beats on the breastworks he thought it a good opportunity, and before I knew it, he had shot his man. Oh, then three cannon and two thousand infantry turned loose on us! The fence was knocked to smithereens. The rails, filled with bullets, crashed over us. Limbs falling from trees, covered us, and we were buried beneath the debris like ground hogs. We could not get out until darkness fell again. Then we found some of our cavalry, and tried to get back to our regiment, but the Yanks were between us and our command. The cavalry said we could fight our way through their lines, and we did. The cavalry soon left us behind. Yankees were shooting all around us and yelling for us to surrender, but we ran into a ravine, where we were hidden by the thick undergrowth, and so we got away.

On May 29, 1862, General Beauregard evacuated Corinth. We retreated on a dark night through a densely wooded bottom road. About two o’clock we halted. As soon as we stopped we dropped in the road anywhere, anyhow, and were fast asleep. Some devilish boy got two trace chains and came running over the sleeping men, rattling the chains, yelling “Whoa! Whoa!” at the top of his voice. Of course all the commotion—we had it then. Soldiers grasped the guns at their sides, officers called, “Fall in, fall in men.” When the joke was discovered it would have been death to that man, but no one ever knew “who struck Billy Patterson.”

We marched forty miles and camped at Twenty Mile Creek on the Mobile and Ohio railroad. On June 5th we reached Tupelo. We were put in Anderson’s Division of General Walker’s Brigade and camped at Tupelo until August 4th, when we were ordered to Montgomery, Ala.

We went on the train to Mobile. Here I went up into the city with Colonel Snyder and two of his friends, I being the only private among them. It seemed ages since we had enjoyed a square meal. We went into a fine restaurant near the Hotel Battle House, four half-starved Confederate soldiers. Just at the smell of oyster stew I collapsed. But we ordered everything—oysters raw, fried, stewed, fresh red snapper; just everything. We ate. I hope we ate! I think that proprietor was astounded, but it was only our pocketbooks that suffered. At last [Pg 27] when we could eat no more, we had fine cigars, and as Dr. Scott said later, “This was good enough for a dog.”

We went from Mobile to the railroad station on the bay, where the water flows under the platform. The train was two hours late, so the boys shed their clothes, and in ten minutes there were a thousand men in the bay. They swam about splashing, kicking, diving, having fun until some of the boys went in where the palm flags were growing and espied a large alligator with his mouth wide open. In less time than it takes to tell it there was not a soldier in the bay. Strange! Men, who had stood firm in battle, had faced cannon, had endured shot and shell, now fled from one alligator!

We went by rail to Montgomery, where we arrived August 7th. We went into camp near the river and had a chance to swim without fear of alligators.

Montgomery, as the first capital of the Confederacy, was a noted place and many celebrated people lived there. Dr. Arnold and I had bought ourselves “boiled” white shirts, thinking we might be invited into society, but we seemed to have been forgotten by the “haut ton.” But it was a beautiful city and we inspected it thoroughly. We were too many for the police, so they “gave us rope to hang ourselves.”

We went on next day to Atlanta. When we got there we hoped to eat a big Georgia watermelon, but to our consternation, found the provost guard destroying every watermelon in the city. They were fresh, red and juicy and made our mouths water, but discipline had improved and we touched not, tasted not, handled not the unclean watermelons. The doctor said they would make us sick. Citizens and negroes might eat them. For soldiers they were sure poison.

We passed up the Sequatchie Valley with its fine springs, stone milk houses, and rich bottom land. We camped on Cumberland Mountain and we camped on Caney Fork. We marched thirty-five miles to Sparta, Tennessee, and camped, and there we were ordered to wash our clothes and to cook three days’ rations. All this marching was on the famous Bragg Kentucky Campaign [Pg 28] and the old general trained us to walk until horses could not beat us. We marched eleven, twelve, thirteen____ ____fifty miles. We waded the Cumberland river, and it was very swift and deep. My messmate, Bob Bond, found a sweetheart here, but he could not tarry and they parted in tears. We camped at Red Sulphur Springs, marched thirty-eight miles and camped on the Tennessee and Kentucky line. We passed through Glasgow, marching all night. These forced marches were hard on us, seasoned infantry as we were. Dr. Arnold, my file leader said:

“Bill, I can’t go any further, don’t you see I go to sleep walking? I can’t stand it any longer.”

“You’re no good,” I replied, “you can stand it as well as I can, besides if you leave the road you will be captured and will have to eat rats.”

“Goodbye, old friend, I am gone,” was his answer. He ran into the wood twenty or thirty feet from the road, dropped down and was asleep by the time he hit the ground.

He said when he awoke he heard sabres clashing and cavalry passing. He thought he “was a goner”, but he soon heard the familiar voice of General Hardee. He was calling to get up and go on. He said even a soldier’s endurance had a limit, and that limit was now reached. We would not go much further without a rest. Then he ordered his body guard to charge the sleeping men. Dr. Arnold had to run for his command or be court martialed. Panting for breath, he joined us after we had gone into camp, and exclaimed, “Bill, I wish I had come on, for I am nearly dead, and old General Hardee is after me hot and heavy.”

On September 17th we left Case City at daybreak, and marched fifteen miles to Mumfordsville, which we surrounded, placing a battery on every hill and knoll that commanded the town. We had eighty cannon ready to open fire, and then demanded the surrender of the garrison, and on September 18th six thousand men marched out, laying down six thousand guns. While Will Reid of our company was loading guns into a wagon, one went off accidentally and shot off his arm. General Hardee was riding over the battlefield, and seeing Reid with his arm [Pg 29] dangling at his side asked his staff surgeon, Dave Yandell, “Who is that man’s surgeon?” Yandell pointed out Dr. Young. Dr. Young had gone out in our company a graduate surgeon. He was young and up to that time he had made no operation of note. He begged the staff-surgeon to help him, but Yandell refused, saying he had no time. He stayed, however, to look on, and embarrassed the young surgeon still more. When Dr. Young took the knife his hand shook like a leaf, but he performed the operation successfully and according to all the laws of surgery. After the war he returned to his home at Corinth, Mississippi, where he stood high in his profession. He died in 1892.

At Mumfordsville while in line of battle, marching slowly and stopping often, we passed through an orchard. Nice juicy apples were lying all over the ground and one of the boys of a Louisiana Regiment, stooped down and picked up two or three. His colonel happened to be looking in his direction, and he had that boy gagged and buckled every time the line stopped. After that every soldier thought hell was too good for that colonel.

On the 20th we marched all night and camped at daylight at New Haven. On the 21st we marched seventeen miles, and camped at Haginsville. On the 22nd we passed fine orchards. My partner, Dr. Arnold said to me, “If you will carry my surplus luggage, I will take the risk and get some of those apples.” “Now Pard, you are in for more trouble.” But he would not listen, and taking his blanket to hold the apples he started off.

He was not the only soldier under the trees, and while on a limb getting his share of the apples, lo and behold, the provost guard came to arrest them! He fairly fell from the tree, broke through the high corn and ran for his life, the guard calling after, “Halt, or I shoot.”

He got back to us with the fruit but said the apples had cost him so much labor and so much fright that they did not taste good. Because we laughed at him, running with his load, he would not give us any until the next day.

We marched fifteen miles and camped at Bardstown until October 4th, when we marched seventeen miles. We marched twelve miles and camped at Springfield. The heat was terrible on those long sunny pikes, with never [Pg 30] a sign to mark the grave of a hero, noble sacrifice to their cause.

One day an assistant surgeon carrying an umbrella was marching along the pike in the rear of his regiment when General Hardee came along. The General had nothing to shield him from the sun but a little cap. He rode up to the surgeon and said, “What is your name?”

The man told him his name, rank and regiment.

“Well sir,” said General Hardee, “just imagine this whole army with umbrellas.”

The doctor shut up his umbrella and pitched it over into the field.

General Hardee was always joking his men on the march, but when the fight was on no one did his part better than he.

On October 6th we marched through Perryville, but on the 7th we marched back and camped in the main street of the town.

Some of the boys stole a bee-hive and many of them got stung so their faces were swollen and eyes closed. Dr. Arnold was one of the injured ones, but he did not fail to eat his honey. As we lay on the ground that night I teased him, saying General Hardee would need no further proof; that he carried his guilt in his face. The doctor did not relish this so I turned over to go to sleep when a bee stung me on the cheek.

“Who’s the guilty one now?” laughed the doctor and the joke was surely on me. But I knew where the medicine wagon was, and went and got some ammonia. I bathed my face, and the swelling went down at once, so I came out ahead after all.

By daylight we were in line of battle and honey and bee-stings were forgotten. The Battle of Perryville was fought October 8th, 1862. We were on the extreme left and our battery, on a hill at our rear, was not engaged until late in the day. The heaviest fighting was on the extreme right. Both sides were contending stubbornly for a spring of water between the lines and were dying for water. Sometimes one side would have the advantage, sometimes the other. When called into action we crossed a bridge in the center of the town, formed a line and advanced [Pg 31] to the top of the hill. Our battery was planted and had begun its work when we received orders to recross the bridge and occupy our former lines. We had to retreat under battery fire, and after we had got our battery over the bridge we marched along the pike. The enemy opened on us with grape and cannister and did deadly work. We double-quicked into line and their sharp-shooters gave us a terrible assault from behind the houses. But when our line was formed, our sharp-shooters deployed and our battery opened fire, they had to retreat. So the battle went on, but finally we had to give up the struggle and evacuate the town. The loss was heavy on both sides, about eight thousand men being killed, captured and wounded.

October 9th we marched fifteen miles and passed Harrodsburg. On the 10th we marched sixteen miles to Camp Dick Robinson. Here a council was held while General Bragg gave his wagons time to go South. It was the greatest wagon train ever seen in the army; was three days passing at one point. Here George Thomas and I each bought three yards of undyed jeans to make ourselves some trousers when we got back South.

The defeat at Perryville and the failure of the Kentuckians to join us as we had hoped, made our campaign anything but a brilliant success from a military point of view, notwithstanding our victories at Mumfordsville and Richmond.

But we had captured six thousand men, we had secured arms and ammunition which were sorely needed, we had gotten enormous quantities of supplies which were a great help to the Confederacy, and the men who did get back were tough as whit-leather, ready for anything.

October 13th we marched twenty-three miles, passing through Lancaster, October 14th we marched seventeen miles, going through Mount Vernon, and halted a little before dark.

Dr. Arnold and I went down to a creek about a mile from camp, and there in a field we found a fine pumpkin. He said if I would help him cook it I might help him eat it. He said it would have to cook until one o’clock to be well [Pg 32] done. I told him I would help take it to camp but I’d be dinged if I’d stay up until one o’clock to cook it. I was too nearly dead for rest and sleep. We got it to camp, cut it up, put it in the famous old army camp kettle and Doc began the Herculean task of staying awake to cook his pumpkin. He did stay awake until one o’clock and got it nicely done, but was afraid to eat it at that unusual hour, as he might have cramp colic. He found an old fashioned oven with a lid, put his pumpkin into it, fastened the lid, placed the oven under the knapsack beneath his head and went to sleep. But first he took the trouble to wake me and tell me I should not have a bite of his pumpkin because I would not stay up to help him cook it.

When reveille sounded he woke up and began to guy me, saying “You shall not have a bite.” He took up his knapsack and behold, the oven, pumpkin and all, was gone! Oh, he was furious, and fairly pawed the ground. He thought I had taken it for a joke, but soon found that to be a mistake. We decided that some soldier had stolen and eaten it. If he had found the man he would have fought him to a finish. He never did see the joke.

October 19th we marched eleven miles. We passed over a battlefield, where General Buckner had fought, and crossed Wild Cat River. We marched thirteen miles and passed through Barkersville. This was a strong Union town in the mountains. The “Jay Hawkers” shot at us from the top of the mountains; women and boys pelted us with stones, shouting, “Hurrah, for the Union.” As they were women and children, we had to take it.

Once we were marching on a road cut out of the mountain side. On one side was a cliff of solid rock, on the other a deep precipice. The command to halt was given and the men fell down to rest, completely filling the road. Arnold and I were in the rear, and one of the ambulance drivers, seeing the crowded condition of the road, told us to get up with him, which we did. There was a trail just wide enough for the horsemen, single file, and along this trail rode General Hardee looking after his men. When he reached this ambulance he stopped opposite Arnold and said to him, “Are you sick?” “No, sir.” [Pg 33] “Well, get down off that wagon.”

“Are you sick?” he called to me, but by that time I was out on the ground. Then he said to the driver, “Let no soldier ride unless he is sick or wounded.”

A Kentucky Colonel brought with him his five hundred dollar carriage, and had his negro drive it at the rear of the regiment. In his rounds General Hardee had found some sick men and told them to get into that carriage. The negro and rear officers explained whose carriage it was, but the General only said, “No use going empty when it can serve so good a purpose. By tomorrow perhaps none of us will need it.”

So the umbrella man, Arnold and myself were not the only ones upon whom General Hardee kept an eye.

October 19th we marched fourteen miles, crossed Cumberland River, then on through Gibraltar, Cumberland Gap, and on across Powell River into Tennessee. We marched past Taswell, crossed Clinch River at Madisonville, and, on October 24th, camped about six miles from Knoxville. Here we were given time to wash and dry our clothes. On this raid we had only one suit and to get it clean meant to strip, wash, let the clothes dry on or hang them on bushes to dry, while we waited. With our battles and forced marches we could not stop for that; so creeping companions were large and furious, and made deadly war. But at Knoxville everybody got busy, went into warfare with our creeping enemy, and the thousands destroyed in that fierce combat will never be known.

George Thomas and I brought out our white jeans which we had bought in Camp Dick Robinson, and had carried all these miles. We got some copperas from a kind old rebel lady, took walnut hulls and dyed our cloth. It was a good job too.

The boys were getting short on tobacco, and it looked as if the whole army would be forced to reform on this line. But they borrowed Dr. Ashford’s horse and sent me to buy tobacco, chewing tobacco, smoking tobacco, hand tobacco, giving me plenty of Confederate currency.

I rode into the beautiful town which I had not seen since we were flying into Virginia. Then we wore good [Pg 34] clothes and had Sunday Soldiering. Now we were soldiers with the dust of a thousand mile march, ragged and unkempt, bleeding from the wounds of two hard-fought battles and numerous skirmishes. Then we were raw, undisciplined troops, now we were seasoned veterans. Such was the change in a few short months.

Riding to a drug store, I hitched my horse, went in, and bought my wholesale bill of tobacco. When I came out again to the sidewalk I saw a policeman leading off my horse. I yelled at him to stop, but he went on, I rushed up and grabbed the reins. He told me it was against the law to hitch a horse to a post in that city. About that time twenty of our boys came running to my rescue. They lined up and told the policeman to turn the horse loose. He did the wise thing, or there would have been a “hot time” right there. I took the horse and I made a bee-line for General Braggs’ Brigade, and took joy and delight to my tobacco-starving friends.

November 2nd we passed through Knoxville and camped on the railroad. At daylight the 154th Regiment Band awoke us with the sweetest music I ever heard. It brought back such poignant memories of home, of the boys and girls around the piano, of charming plantation melodies.

But the next tune was not so sweet. It came to the tune of orders to “cook three days’ rations, and be ready to move at a moment’s notice.” We rode cars to Chattanooga, from there on November 10th we went to Bridgeport, Alabama. From Bridgeport we crossed the Tennessee River, marched fifty miles and camped at Alisonia. November 24th we marched twenty miles, passing through Tullahoma; November 25th we marched fifteen miles and camped on Duck River at a short distance from Shelbyville. At this time the Medical department decided to give all the one-course Medical students then in the army a chance to pass the examination for promotion to assistant surgeon. Dr. Arnold was one of these one-course students and decided to try the examination. We diked him out in the best clothes we could get together in the company. I contributed my white shirt, other boys [Pg 35] brought him hat, coat, shoes, and collar. When he stood before us for inspection he could have passed for a lawyer or preacher just from town. With his book, “Smith’s Compends,” he walked twenty miles to the Board of Examiners, stood before the “saw-bones,” shook and answered questions. Perhaps his borrowed plumage helped him, at any rate he passed, and was given a certificate. He walked back, changed from the rank of a private to that of a captain! When he came in sight two hundred braves met him; when shown his certificate they rode him on a rail and kept up a rough house for an hour or two. He had no horse, no money, and no books except his Smith’s Compends, but the older doctors helped him, and soon he was fully up in medical affairs and made a good surgeon too.

December 8th we marched twenty miles and camped at Eaglesville. From there we marched to College Hill.

December 28th we marched to Murfreesboro, and camped on Stone River within cannon shot of the town. Here we prepared to meet Rosecrans with his army, forty-five thousand in number. We were in line of battle on the extreme right. After dark on the thirtieth, still in line of battle, we moved our position to extreme left and camped, without fire, in a cedar rough. Our orders were to advance as soon as it was light enough to see. At dawn, December 31, we moved promptly on the enemy, advancing through an open field. The enemy, protected by a fence and the trees, received us with deadly fire and our loss was great. But we flew after them and our work was just as disastrous to them. Dead bluecoats were thick in every direction. We soon had them on the run.

Our company Color Bearer William Mathews, the same who had defied the Yankee fleet on the Potomac, had been ill and this was his first fight. As we followed the fleeing Yanks he said, “Boys, this is fun.” One of the men answered, “Stripes, don’t be so quick, this is not over yet; you may get a ninety-day furlough yet.” In twenty minutes Mathews’ arm was shot to pieces.

George Thomas was in front of all the company. He had killed two men and was pulling down on the third, [Pg 36] when one, but a short distance away, shot him, wounding him in the arm. But George spotted the man who shot him and wanted to go on with one good arm. However, he was taken off the field and sent to the hospital.

We drove the enemy three miles. The fire all along the line was terrific. The cannonading could be heard for miles. The rattle of small arms was continuous. Our line on the left was pressing on over a terrible cedar rough. Anyone who understands a cedar rough can understand what that means. Limestone rocks, gnarly cedar trees, stub arms sticking out of the ground, make it almost impassable at best. How much more difficult with an enemy in front concentrating his fire upon us. We pressed on through rocks and thicket. One of our brave boys, Arthur Green, was struck by a cannonball and torn all to pieces. Other parts of the line were as hot as ours. We got possession of the thicket but could not get the cannon through it; so we hardly got a man of their line.

When we got through, we found the Yanks with sixty cannon in line fronting the cedar rough. Our ranks were so depleted we could not charge two lines of infantry and sixty cannon. There was nothing to do but hold our position and await re-inforcements.

We lay in line all night. Orders were sent to the quarter-master to send rations, if he had any. Two negroes, belonging to two of the officers, arrived, bringing food for their masters.

As all was quiet then, and it was raining, they decided to sleep by the fire until daylight. To keep off the rain they drove forked branches into the ground, laid a brace across them, stretched their blankets over all, and pegged them to the ground at the four corners. Before long hard firing was heard on the outpost. Bullets rained on their tent, struck the logs of the fire, cut loose the corners of the blankets, letting the rain on their faces. When they saw the flying bullets, they awaited no instructions from their masters. With eyes popping out of their heads, they grabbed their blankets and set out for the wagon [Pg 37] train. They were not long in getting there.

Next day the struggle was renewed with fearful carnage.

Each side fought with grim and settled purpose, finally a fierce onslaught scattered our forces. In twenty minutes we lost two thousand men, and the day was lost. Orders for retreat were given.

General Braggs’ loss was about ten thousand men, while Rosecrans reported his at twelve thousand.

In the battle our Lieutenant Colonel Don McGregor was mortally wounded. When he was taken to the hospital, his faithful old Samuel was by his side. The Colonel’s sister, who lived a few miles from Murfreesboro, had come to relieve the suffering and nurse the wounded. (Ah, those brave, never-to-be-forgotten daughters of the South!) When she drove up to the hospital in her carriage she found Sam waiting with his own and his master’s horse saddled ready for the trip to her home. When we retreated General Rosecrans’ men came in, and his guard took the two horses, and drove off in the carriage. What could be done? Samuel said, “I will get them back.”

At this particular time of the unpleasantness, the Yankees were burning with sympathy for the poor, oppressed negro, and negroes were permitted to do pretty much as they pleased. Samuel went to Rosecrans’ headquarters, told him the horses were his, that he had a wounded friend in the hospital and he wanted a pass to the country. All his requests were granted. He drove the Colonel and his sister to her home, and nursed his master until he died.

After Colonel McGregor died Samuel got a pass through the lines and returned to our camp. He delivered the Colonel’s horse but kept his own and asked our Regiment Colonel for a pass to Arkansas. He then told the boys to write to their fathers, mothers and sweethearts, as he was going back home to see his mistress. We received answers to these letters, showing that Samuel had made the journey safely, faithful to the end.

We retreated by night. We were nearly starved. It was raining, cold, cold rain, and we were wet to the skin. We were so sleepy that if we stopped for a moment we would go to sleep. We had gone almost as far as human [Pg 38] nature could go.

One of the boys thought he would rest a few moments beside a fire left by some wagons. He took pine boughs and laid them on the wet ground, dropped down with all his accoutrements, and went to sleep. General Hardee came up, spied him, called to his Adjutant, “Roy, come here; here is a fellow who has gone regularly to bed.”

About then the soldier woke up very much frightened. He thought he would be shot. He got away from there in a hurry, and was with his command before his absence was discovered.

January 5th, 1863, we marched forty-two miles to Manchester. January 6th we marched eighteen miles to Alisonia. From Alisonia we marched to Tullahoma, and there we camped for the winter.

We were in General Hardee’s Division. We had tents and were comfortable. We drilled four hours a day, and by way of diversion General Hardee had contests in drilling. We become so expert that we could have made the Virginia Cadets ashamed of themselves. Our company was third best and that took good practice. A Louisiana company was ahead of us. It beat us in quickness at “trail arms”, “lie down”, at “double quick.” At walking or running none excelled us at any army maneuver. We had other amusements, too. We played “town ball” and “bull pen” and had some lively games. We dressed up the smaller fellows as girls and we danced. Joe Hamilton, Dick Hayden, Sam Shoup and Bill Barnes were the musicians. Bill Shackleford was ready to play pranks, and made fun for the crowd. Now and then we got a pass and sent our best foragers out for “fancy grub” and vegetables. Then we would have a big dinner and a big day.

April 23rd, real fun began again, but we were alive, active, young, healthy, well-drilled, well-disciplined—in perfect fighting trim. For fear we would forget how to march a walking track was opened up from Tullahoma, and we marched daily five, ten, eighteen, twenty, thirty miles, making expeditions to all the surrounding towns—Wartrace, Bellbuckle, Hoover’s Gap, Duck River, Bridge, [Pg 39] Railroad Gap, Manchester. Manchester was a nice little town in the hills, where there were numerous springs and streams in which we could swim. June 22nd we went there to relieve a Louisiana Regiment. When we arrived they were on dress parade, eleven hundred strong and their drill was simply fine, but they had never smelt powder nor marched at all. They wore nice caps, fine uniforms, white gloves, fine ——shop-made laced high shoes. They carried fat haversacks and new canteens, fine new fat knapsacks with lots of underclothing and even two pairs of shoes. They laughed at us in our shabby dress, with our dirty haversacks and no knapsacks. We had one suit of underwear wrapped in our blankets and our accoutrements were reduced to the lightest weight possible. They said we were too few to meet the enemy, but we told them we would stay with any who came to engage us. We also told them that they couldn’t get through one week’s campaign with such knapsacks. Some of the boys said, “We will follow in your wake and replenish our wardrobes.”

This was a sad camp to us. One of our men, Garret, got angry with Mr. Bragden, the Beef Sergeant, who divided the company rations. Taking his gun, he went to Bragden’s tent where he was unarmed and shot him like a dog. Garrett would have been lynched if the officers had not hurried him off to another part of the army.

June 27th we marched to Wartrace, June 29th to Tullahoma, June 30th we were deployed to build breastworks, but we retreated at eleven o’clock at night to Alisonia on Elk River.

July third, we camped in the Cumberland Mountains, near the school which had been established by General Polk and the Quintards. It was an ideal place for a school and I am glad to say it bears, today, an honored name among educators as the University of the South.

We had marched all day in the hot July sun, clouds of dust had parched our throats, and we were almost perishing for water when we reached the spring. As we rested at the side of the road whom should we see but our crack Louisiana Regiment—the one we had relieved at Manchester only ten days before. They were dusty, dirty, lame and halt, with feet sore and swollen in their tight shoes, [Pg 40] a bedraggled and woe begone set of youngsters. How we joshed them.

“Don’t cry, mama’s darling;” “Straighten up and be men;” “Brace up like soldiers, so the army won’t be ashamed of you.” These were some of the commands we hurled at them. They would have fought us if they could have stopped, but a soldier cannot break ranks.

July 4th, 1863, we camped in the valley on the Tennessee River. Then we crossed the River at Kelly Ford to Lookout Valley. July 9th we marched through Chattanooga and camped at Turner’s Station.

August 17th we marched to Graysville. Here Dr. T. R. Ashford got a four days’ furlough. Dr. Ashford had married in Georgia and had gone with his bride to Arkansas and established himself as a physician. When the war broke out he joined the army from his adopted home, going out as assistant surgeon in our regiment. His wife returned to her mother in Georgia and he had not seen her for two years. As Graysville was near her home, she came to visit him and there they had a happy meeting.

Dr. Ashford, always kind and sympathetic, was a great favorite with the boys. Highly educated and a fine surgeon, he was modest and unassuming, a sincere Christian gentleman. After the war he settled in Georgia. Dr. Ashford, Dr. Arnold and I were close friends through those long dreadful years.

August 21st we camped at Harrison on the Tennessee River. On August 23rd we marched fourteen miles and camped at Gardner’s Ferry.

Here several of the boys went foraging and got some nice green apples. George Thomas, Captain Shoup and others made apple dumplings and put them in a large camp kettle to cook.

They were standing around the fire, with mouths watering, thinking every minute an hour, when the Yankees on the other side of the river began to shell the camp. They had run up four globe-sighting 16 shotguns to the top of a small hill. We were too far from our guns and [Pg 41] there were no orders given to shoot, so they shelled us a plenty.

While the boys were watching the kettle a cannon ball struck the fire, upset the kettle, passed between the legs of one of the men and exploded a little farther on. This did not seem to cause any alarm. They had heard cannon balls explode before, but a mighty wail went up over the loss of the apple dumplings. The air was blue around there, and at that particular moment the boys would have charged the enemy joyously.

I was with the doctors that day. They had a negro who was a fine forager. He even brought us fried chicken. We had a royal spread in front of the doctors’ tent and were consuming the good things with great relish, when a cannon ball went through the tent! It looked like it was going to smash us to smithereens, grub and all! We got away from there. We grabbed the grub and, went down the line where we finished our meal. Not royally as we would have done, but hastily and stealthily.

But our sharp-shooters in the dumps on the river got even with them. The Yanks drove out into the field with two six-mule wagons to get some fine rebel fodder. There were about thirty men in all, teamsters and guards. Some of them stood on the rail pen surrounding the fodder, others climbed on the shock to begin at the top. Our sharp-shooters shot the mules first, then the men, and few lived to tell the tale. Sherman said, “War is Hell.” In this case it was hell to them.

September 10th we marched down the valley toward Lafayette. As the dust was a foot deep and water scarce we moved slowly and we went into camp about ten o’clock.

Dr. Scott of our Division, was sent for to see a citizen who was very ill. He went and relieved him, and left medicine, not asking pay for his services. After he had returned to camp a negro brought him a huge tray heaped with good things to eat. The doctor looked at the pile of grub, and said, “You boys must dine with me today, I can’t eat all of this.” We needed no further urging for our blue beef and water corn-dodger was rather poor fare. We lit into it, and as hungry wolves devour a sheep, so we devoured that pile of grub. Then the darkey took his [Pg 42] tray and departed with a note of thanks. Our gratitude was truly sincere.

September 19th battle was on hand. We were in General Polk’s Brigade, to which the Hardee Corps had been transferred. When orders were read we found ourselves named as reserves. Cannonading began on our right, and we were moved quickly to the sound of the shot, about three miles. As we drew nearer to it we were ordered to double-quick. When we came to Chickamauga Creek we began to pull off our shoes to wade when General Cleburne came along saying, “Boys, go through that river, we can’t wait.”

Through the creek we went, and were among the first to be engaged instead of being reserves. When our line was deployed and ordered forward we were the very first. We struck stubborn western troops who knew how to fight. The conflict was terrific and raged all day. When night fell the engagement was stopped. Throwing out skirmishers we found that the lines were mixed up terribly. We were among the Yankees and they were calling, “What command is this?” It was midnight before the lines were reformed. Then we had a night’s sleep on the ground, knowing that on the morrow some of us would fall in defense of our country—some of us would never see home and mother again. General Longstreet arrived in the night with re-inforcements, bringing a division from Virginia. At daybreak the struggle was renewed. On both sides was the determination, “God being our helper, we will win this day.” Wave after wave of deadly lead was sent against those Western troops, who contested every inch of the ground, who would stand a charge, and stay on the field. But our blood was hot, we fought for home, and against an invading foe and we could not give up at all. At the end of two days a battle of battles had been fought and won for the Confederate cause. But alas, how many Southern boys had bitten the dust. The field was so thickly strewn with dead we could scarcely walk over it without stepping on the corpses. Our Regiment lost 42 killed and 103 wounded, and of the 120,000 [Pg 43] men engaged on both sides, 28,000 were killed and wounded.

Longstreet’s men said to us, “Boys, you have tougher men to fight than we.”

If we had followed up our victory and had Forrest cut off the enemy’s supplies what a difference it would have made. We might have stretched our lines to the Kentucky border. Such are the mistakes of war.

At this battle one of the boys captured two horses and gave them to Dr. Arnold. He said he would draw feed for them and on the march I could ride one of them. I named my horse “General Thomas” but before we left our first camp the assistant surgeons could draw feed only for one horse so I was afoot as I had been for two years.

We established a line of breastworks on Missionary Ridge and held Lookout Mountain, a mountain over a mile in height, and, as we thought, commanded Chattanooga.

The Yankees saw that something must be done or things would be booming in Dixie. They brought to the front Dutch, Irish, Hottentots and all kinds of troops, and by the last of October the Sequatchie (?) (Wauhatchie?) Valley was swarming like a beehive.

Once a Dutch corps of 15,000 went down the valley through a gap to reach our rear. Bragg sent to meet them about 15,000 troops, placing them arrowed in front. He had a line under General Hindeman with orders, at a certain signal, to rush across, cutting them off entirely from the main army. The signal was never given and we do not know why to this day. At that signal we were to follow across the valley at double-quick but Mr. Dutch discovered he was in a trap and he marched out again.

There was a Union man living on the route of this Dutch Devil, who had not joined either army. He had lived on his farm unmolested by the Southern troops, and supposed that of course he would be protected by the Northern troops. As the Dutch marched down to attack us they stopped at this man’s home, searched the place, insulted his wife and knocked him down. As they came running back they had no time to tarry, but one at a time, a straggler, would drop into his smokehouse to see if there was one ham left. The Union man took a long, [Pg 44] keen bowie-knife and stood in the dark corner of the smokehouse; when only one man entered he stabbed him to the heart and put his body into the well. He killed three men. Next morning, he with his wife and children, walked into our camp. He said he was ready to fight to the bitter end. He took his family South and came back and made a bad soldier for them.

November 23, 24 and 25 we fought the “Battle Above the Clouds,” the terrible conflict of Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge. We were fighting continuously during those three days. We were in breastworks on the ridge near Lookout Mountain, but when the fighting was fiercest we were sent to relieve the commands at the extreme right of the Yankee army. They came in solid front five columns deep and charged our breastworks but were driven back hour after hour with terrible slaughter. Late in the afternoon they made a concentrated attack on our center and drove our men out of line. We had to give up Lookout Mountain and we retreated to the Ridge about midnight. Throughout the night Sherman’s troops were coming up, and next day we were attacked in front and flank. Our breastworks were of no use as Lookout Mountain commanded the Ridge, so in spite of desperate struggles we were ordered to retreat.

At Chattanooga it had been agreed that there should be no firing on the line of pickets without notification. Here between the picket line and the main line of battle our sporting boys sought “sheckle luck,” those who were fortunate enough to have a few sheckles of Confederate money. One day when General Hardee was officer of the day he ordered a regiment deployed around the gamblers, but soldiers from all parts of the field yelled to the boys to run, and run they did. General Hardee did not get many.

In our company was a Kentucky lad named Barnett who had a brother in the Union Army. They got permission to spend the day together. When the day was over they separated, each going back to his command. That [Pg 45] was a war! Brother against brother, father against son, arrayed in deadly combat.

We went to Dalton, marching all night. As we crossed the river it seemed the coldest night our thinly clad men had ever experienced. Our corps under Hardee was the rear guard. General Cleburne’s Division was immediately in the rear. General Polk was our Brigadier General. About two o’clock we passed General Cleburne.

[ … ]

mountain, looking and thinking.

“Something is going to happen” I said to the boys.

“Why?”

“Look at General Cleburne, don’t you see war in his eyes?”

We had crossed Ringold Mountain, but we were sent back to take the horses from the cannon, put men in their places, and pulled it quickly to the top of the mountain, so to the summit over rocks and between trees two pieces were carried. Our regiment was sent to the top with them. Two minutes more would have been too late. Not fifty yards away on the other side of the hill were Yankees climbing for the same goal. Then the firing began. We had the advantage in having a tree to use as breastworks, and in being able to see them. Whenever one stepped aside from his tree to shoot our men got him. Captain Shoup and John Baird rolled rocks down the hill and when a Yankee dodged the other boys shot him. We picked off dozens. When the cannon was got ready and began shelling the woods, breaking the trees, tearing up rocks and showering them on the lines below, they had to break and retreat in haste down the hill.

If we had not got there as soon as we did our line would have been the one to retreat.

General Cleburne took us next to Ringold Gap, a gap dug by the railroad through the mountain. He made a talk to the boys, telling us that we were there to save the army, which was five miles away and could not possibly get help to us. Our task would require nerve and will of which he knew we had plenty. We were to form two lines of battle across the gap and were not to fire until he gave the signal, (by signs, as commands would not be [Pg 46] heard in the roar of guns.)

The Yankees having failed to break our line on the mountain had massed their forces at the gap, determined to break Cleburne’s line, when the rest would be easy for them.

They came on seven columns deep to our two. We watched them advance and seconds seemed hours. We felt they would be on us before Cleburne ever gave the signal. Would he never give it? At last when the time was ripe, he, who knew the art of war so well, gave the signal to fire, and such deadly work did we perform as was not surpassed in the whole four years of war. We let loose on them four pieces of cannon. The command to stop firing was not given until the number of dead in our front was greater than our Brigade. This fight showed strategy and bravery. It checked the advance of an army five times greater than our Division, and it proved to General Hardee that he had one man who could plan and execute a battle with any adversary. Ever after, Cleburne with his Arkansas, Tennessee and Texas men was placed in the hottest part of battle. Our loss was 88 killed, 23 wounded, and their loss was reported in Northern papers as 2,000 killed, wounded and captured.

We went into winter quarters at Dalton, our regiment being in front of the general army. We camped near Tunnel Hill. We had good foraging ground and could get chickens, eggs, butter, so we lived high. John Loftin was captain of the foragers and he was a good one too. He only got caught once but he lied out of that. Two negroes, who belonged to two doctors of our Brigade, went to Dalton one night to see the sights and buy half-moon pies, big sorghum ginger-bread, and other things. Coming home at midnight they were crossing a railroad trestle when two robbers called on them to halt. Sam began to parley with them when whack! they hit him over the head, and told him to give up his money. He yielded up his shin-plasters, all he had. They then took Tom’s can. He did not have much so they told him to pull. He was a good runner especially when scared, and he lit out over rocks and brush, beating his partner to camp. With eyes as big as saucers he related his exploits to his master. They did not visit Dalton at night again. We used to go [Pg 47] over there to see the girls and have parties and sorghum “candy pulls.” It was a great diversion, and between the lines, when the guards were on to it they would arrest, but the boys could usually outgeneral them.

From this camp I was sent on a three days’ furlough to Augusta to buy some drug supplies not to be found in Atlanta. When I reached Atlanta whom should I meet but George Roberts, one of my old mess-mates who had been transferred to Morgan’s Cavalry. Morgan had been captured, and all that was left of the command was at Macon re-organizing. George was buying horses. He was flush and wanted me to take a thousand dollars, but I had lots of money, at least for these days. He went to the depot to see me off. Robert was a fine fellow. He was a regular city rat. We country boys used to get him to pilot us around the city. He would know all the streets in a day and could take us anywhere we wanted to go. After the war he settled in Texas, where he was cashier of a bank. He died several years ago.

In Augusta I met Colonel Snyder of the Eighth Arkansas. He was from Pocahontas, Ark., and was then on a furlough. I also met Ed M. Dickinson, Thad Kinman and Ben Adler. They belonged to the quartermaster’s department under Captain Bridewell and Major Moon. They kept books as big as a dining table. As they belonged to this particular department they helped me to draw a new jacket suit. They lived in a fine city and fared sumptuously, so knowing all the ropes they made it mighty pleasant for me. Through Ed I met an uncle whom I had not seen before. It was on a crowded street in the city, but I knew him at once from his resemblance to my father. When I accosted him he was very dignified and seemed to doubt me until I told him the names of the whole family. Then he insisted upon me going to his home. He had an interesting family. My grandmother died at his home and was buried in a cemetery in Augusta. I got back to camp on time. After living off the fat of the land our regular diet of blue beef and corn bread somehow failed [Pg 48] to tickle the palate. George Thomas, who had been wounded at Murfreesboro, got back to us at this camp.

We were waiting to move on the checkerboard. Jeff Davis, General Bragg, Johnston and all were calling for the troops to have a decisive battle hereabouts, but there was a difference of opinion between Davis and the commanding generals. Our Brigade was ordered, I suppose to Mississippi. We went by rail to Montgomery, were halted there, and were sent back to Dalton and went into camp again.

May 8th, 1864 we began the famous Dalton campaign, under the leadership of the superb General Joseph E. Johnston. He had between forty and fifty thousand men divided into three corps, commanded respectively by Generals Hardee, Hood and Polk. He was opposed by Sherman with about 100,000 well drilled seasoned soldiers [ … ] by Generals Thomas, McPherson and Schofield, but Johnston was equal to the campaign.

May 8th we were menaced by the enemy in front and flank. May 9th we moved our position two miles to the left and on May 10th we moved rapidly back to the top of the mountain. We had no tents nor protection of any kind. We slept on the ground among the rocks. Although it rained in torrents, we were so dead tired from our 33 mile march, we did not know it was raining until we were wet through. At daybreak we were again on the march and went to Snake Creek Gap, then three miles to the left and built breastworks. From there we marched to Resaca. May 15th we had heavy fighting and were forced from our position. The retreat was covered by Hardee’s corps. Our engineers had to build, under fire, a bridge for the army to cross the Costenaula. In fact from Dalton to Atlanta we had a continuous battle. We moved back slowly, and only when flanked and outnumbered. When we adopted a new line a few miles back, we built breastworks. Thus marching, battling, building works, in rain and mud, with no camp, no tents and but little food, the campaign went on. But in all our skirmishes and engagements we used every advantage to their great loss. We fell back to Calhoun, then to Adairsville. We were the rear guard on that road. After we had crossed [Pg 49] a creek and marched to the top of the hill, (our Cavalry to the rear), the Yankees moved opposite and opened up a battery. We were ordered to lie down and not to fire until told to do so. General Polk and General Jackson rode in front of us and the sharp-shooters and artillery of the enemy made it hot for them, bullets going through their hats and clothes. General Jackson would dodge, but General Polk would sit as straight as an arrow and never move a muscle. I heard him when he told General Cleburne and asked permission to advance on the enemy. When the courier returned General Cleburne himself came to see the fun. From our hill could be seen fifty thousand Yankee troops—Infantry, Cavalry and Artillery. For our Brigade to advance against such a force was a visionary idea, and the permission was not given.

We moved on to join our main army which was a few miles in front drawn up in line of battle near Cassville. Our line was in open field, five miles long. Each man had forty cartridges and knew how to use them. General Johnston rode along the line and told the men he was going to give battle. The soldiers threw their caps into the air and shouted themselves hoarse with joy at the thought of going into a fight which they felt in their souls would be successful. It was inspiring to see such enthusiasm in battle scarred veterans who knew what fighting meant. It was not theory with them, it was knowledge gained in bloody experience. I was glad I was on that field and saw that flashing of Southern bravery. Such patriots are born only of liberty-loving people, born of God. That confidence of success, that confidence in their leader was what Joseph E. Johnston had looked for, had prayed for. He knew his position to be the best he had ever had. He now knew the temper of his men. Nothing could have checked them. It would be the biggest battle of the war and his success.

When this great battle was formed in Johnston’s brain and the Generals ordered to occupy the ground assigned them, who was the first to say he could not hold his position? Who, but General Hood! Histories love to state that these generals led their men, but here was a time when the general did not lead into battle the bravest men in the world who were clamoring for the fight.

[Pg 50]

LYMAN B. GILL

[Pg 51]

General Polk also expressed his disapproval of the movement. When his two generals went back on him, Johnston was paralyzed and could not or did not attempt to carry out his plan. Unlike Albert Sydney Johnson at Shiloh, who, when his plan was disapproved of, and obstacles thrown in his way, arose like the giant hero he was and said “You who are true, go to your commands. The battle will begin at daybreak.” If he had lived a few hours longer he would have won that battle beyond a doubt.

If Joseph E. Johnston had said something like this the men would have done the rest, but when he ordered the line under the skirmish fire to retreat they obeyed like true soldiers. It was a bitter disappointment, but their trust in the great commander was firm. He hoped that other opportunities would offer but when the time came he was relieved and the command given to that General who had thwarted the greatest battle of the Confederacy.

Johnston’s plan of campaign was the only one possible for us, fighting against such odds. I am not a general, nor the son of a general, but having been right on the ground for four years, feel that I am entitled to an opinion. And so with all the men who composed Company G, First Arkansas Regiment, Hardee Corps, Govan Brigade, Cleburne Division. The verdict of these men who helped make history is that if Johnston’s [ … ] had prevailed the Confederacy would have had a different tale to tell at Atlanta.

Tacticians now agree that Johnston’s success in preserving his army almost entire was an achievement of the greatest military science.

May 19th we left Cassville. We marched mostly by night, built breastworks, and by daybreak were ready for the contest. On May 26th the heaviest assault on our works took place. On our skirmish line, a short distance in front of our works we had dump holes dug in the ground, the dirt thrown out facing the enemy. Thirty men stayed in the dumps until the main line came up. Then they opened fire and checked the advance. When they could no longer do this, they ran back to the line behind [Pg 52] the breastworks.

At New Hope Church the enemy made a seven line concentrated assault on our line. Our men were cool and steady, and all were splendid shots. We waited until they were very near, then sent forth a sheet of fire and lead that could not be withstood. The number of their dead was enormous, and our own loss was considerable. We lost our first lieutenant, Alley Walthall, here. He was a distant relative of General Walthall, and as brave a man as ever lived on earth.

A lieutenant of another company was killed also. He was in one of the dumps with one of the sixteen rifles. He had seen four Yankees fall under his well-directed fire, but at last was mortally wounded. He backed out of the dump and into a hollow where the enemy could see him fall. His comrades went out and brought him behind the breastworks. As he lay on the ground he conversed with his friends urging them to become Christians. Sending for the Colonel, he told him that he (the colonel) was a wicked man, and must lead a better life. By way of comfort one of the boys told him how many Yankees he had killed in the assault. The lieutenant said, “Yes, I killed three. But, my brother, don’t gloat over it. Do your duty, but don’t gloat over it.” After sending many loving messages home he passed away.

Meanwhile Sherman was receiving re-inforcements, and on June 9th moved against our intrenchments along Lost Mountains. In this region there was fighting for several days in the midst of almost incessant rain. General Polk was killed during this engagement. June 15–17 we abandoned both mountains and fell back to the great Kennesaw overlooking Marietta.

June 20th two of us got a permit to go to Marietta for tobacco and other supplies. As we were passing through the residence part of the city a kind-hearted lady invited us into the house to eat raspberries with her family. We did not have the heart to refuse her hospitality, so we went in. We had raspberries, cream and cake. Think of it, rebel soldiers regaled with such delicacies! When we got back to camp we told the boys about it and they said [Pg 53] we lied! But the memory of that kind act to strangers and common privates will last as long as life itself.

On the 27th after a furious cannonading for hours by the enemy he made a general advance in heavy columns. Their assault in seven lines deep was vigorous and persistent on Cheatham’s and Cleburne’s Divisions of Hardee’s Corps, the Confederates being covered by strong rifle pits which could not be carried by front attack, coolly and rapidly pouring a murderous fire into the massed Federals, causing losses entirely out of proportion to those inflicted upon the Confederates. The loss of the enemy in front of Cleburne’s Division was one thousand deaths. After the repulse of the second desperate assault the dry leaves and undergrowth in the forest before Cleburne’s Division were set on fire by the shells and gun wadding, and began burning rapidly around the Federal wounded and dead, exposing them to a horrible death. This danger was observed by the Confederates who were ordered instantly to cease firing and Lieutenant Colonel Martin, First Arkansas Regiment of Cleburne’s Division, called to the Federals that as an act of humanity his men would suspend further battle until the assailants could carry off their dead and wounded who were liable to be burned alive. This offer was accepted by the Federals and in this work of mercy the Federals were joined by the Confederates who leaped their head logs and helped to carry off their dead and wounded. This occurrence is perhaps unparalleled in the annals of war. In this great struggle the Federal army numbered about or over one hundred thousand and Confederates numbered fifty thousand and in this Kennesaw battle our loss was eight hundred and eight the Federal loss about five thousand.

July 4th was celebrated by skirmishing all day. Sherman hoped to catch us and administer a fatal blow before we could cross the Chattahootchee, but we threw up strong intrenchments so quickly, and guarded the rear so [Pg 54] skillfully that the army was all across the river July 5th without having been molested.

But speaking of the Fourth of July. At this time Colonel Fellows, who had been with our command on our first trip to Richmond, was in prison at Johnson’s Island together with about three thousand other officers. The rebels gained permission for Colonel Fellows to speak on the stand used by the guards as a watch tower. As he poured forth his thoughts, turning the Fourth of July to the glory of the South even the Yankee guards, who had stopped to listen were spellbound by his eloquence. He had it all his own way and the rebels were shouting like mad. The officer of the day finally awoke to the situation, took a file of soldiers, and brought the speech to a close. At another time in the same prison Lincoln’s Proclamation was read, offering pardon and freedom to all rebel prisoners who would take the oath of allegiance. The officers lined up in the barracks and announced that any man who wished to take the oath might step over to this line, give his name and be free. When Colonel Fellows was called he made a five minute talk in which he declared death was preferable. One of our boys, Shannon Logan of Co. G, First Arkansas Regiment, eighteen years old, was captured. He was a relative of General Logan and when his name appeared General Logan’s family drove down to the prison with the papers necessary for his release. They asked to see him and were shown a dirty, greasy, lousy private. Through the grime they recognized a fine boy with a noble face. They took him home, bathed him, clothed him, fed him, then told him to be their boy thenceforth. If this lonely boy, away from home, away from comrades had taken the oath he would have been free, with loving kinsmen, with luxury and riches, but he said “No, no! I will die first.” So for him it was back to the filthy prison among the vermin and the rats.

[Pg 55]

LON STEADMAN
Now living at Paragould, Ark., where he was sheriff for ten years.

[Pg 56] This, one of the many instances of the loyalty displayed by the rank and file, should be told to coming generations that they may know how the Southern private never faltered, but was true to the core.

July 12th we crossed the Chattahootchee near Atlanta. July 18th we marched four miles and built breastworks. July 20th there was hard fighting at Peach Tree Creek in which we lost heavily. Our noble Captain Shoup was wounded and the command devolved upon Second Lieutenant Clay Lowe. He and John R. Loftin were the only commissioned officers we had left.

July 22 we marched ten miles to the right of Atlanta. Hardee had attacked the enemy in the rear and there had been a terrible struggle which lasted for hours. Toward evening we heard the Yankee Bands playing and the soldiers shooting and cheering and we knew they had won.

While Johnston was in command he had preserved his army, and inflicted upon the enemy a loss almost equal to our strength when we began the campaign. Our loss had been about nine thousand, which had been filled by the return of the wounded and furloughed men, so that General Hood received an army fully as strong as it was at Dalton. We were as ready to fight as ever although certainly disappointed at the loss of Johnston. We felt that no other general could do what he had done.

Soon after the war ended Johnston was going from Memphis to St. Louis. General Sherman and his staff were on their way to New Orleans. When Sherman learned that his former adversary was on board a certain boat he took passage for St. Louis on the same vessel. After supper he asked Johnston if he had any objection to going over with him the retreat from Dalton. Johnston said he had not. So Sherman spread his maps on the cabin table and, surrounded by a throng of listeners, they began. Sherman would ask about his line at a certain place, and Johnston would explain how his move was made. Sherman would point to his map and say: “How in the world did you get away from me here?” They talked all night. Johnston needed no map. He had been in the very thick of battle for seventy-four days; the map of campaign was burned into his brain, and he knew every foot [Pg 57] of the ground. His retreat was a wonder to Sherman and to the world. Yet this great military genius was thrown out on the eve of his final and greatest assault upon Sherman. An assault which would have saved Atlanta to the Confederacy. Hood and Davis tactics prevailed after that and the splendid, unconquered army was swept off the earth into the grave.

Hood questioned the morale of his army, but as for that, our poor little Company G went into line under Hood as true as it ever had under Johnston. We fought for the cause, not the general. Jim Hensley, a boy who had been wounded severely, returned to the company. His physician had not reported him for duty, but had given him merely a pass to his command. I was in the field hospital when the order to forward was given. Hensley came to me saying: “Here, my dear old friend, is a little silver watch I wish to give you, for I shall be killed today.”

I told him he had not been reported for duty; that he was still far from well, and begged him not to go into battle, especially as he had a presentiment that he should be killed. He turned his soulful eyes upon me. “Will, do you think I am afraid because I know I am going to be killed?” Putting his hand on his breast he continued, “I have no fear of death. I am a Christian, and I know I shall be safe in heaven.” With tears we parted. He joined his brave comrades, Jim Murphy, John Baird and George Thomas on the left of Company G, after the line was in motion. They were moving against strong entrenchments heavily defended by abatis. These four boys saw they could crawl under the abatis without being seen and get close to the breastworks. After they started, the command was given to oblique to the left, but in the roar of the musketry the boys failed to hear it and went on alone. There were about a hundred Yankees on the breastworks watching our line which was advancing upon their rear. The four boys crawled close in, prepared, and opened up. At the first fire down came four Yankees. They were taken by surprise, not knowing there were any men at their front. The boys kept at their game until the Yankees ran. Then went forward to take possession of [Pg 58] the works. Then they found themselves alone and two hundred of the enemy entrenched behind a second line! It was death anyway, so they ran forward firing on the troops with terrible accuracy. One man had a bead on Thomas when Murphy shot the fellow. One hinged for Murphy when Thomas bayoneted him. So they had it—hand to hand. Poor Hensley was killed, Murphy terribly wounded, Baird wounded, but Thomas would not surrender. He bayoneted them until they took his gun, then he kicked and bit until they finally killed him there. Four men had killed twenty-five Yankees, but only one of the four lived to tell the tale. To question the morale of such men is farcical. The battle on our left raged all day, and we were defeated. Our colonel lost his foot. One third of our regiment was gone. Great numbers were killed and wounded but the troops were as loyal and fought as bravely as any army on earth. This was Hood’s second defeat. In two battles, he had lost ten thousand men—more than we had lost in the whole campaign, in seventy-four days’ battles and skirmishes. It would not take long with such tactics to wipe out the rebel army.

July 29th we marched back to Atlanta. August 31st we marched to Jonesboro and on September 1st we moved to the right, threw up temporary works and Hardee’s corps fought the Battle of Jonesboro. Hood’s and Stewart’s corps were at Atlanta, twenty miles away, and we were entirely unsupported. We fought all day against seven corps of Yankees. We were surrounded and fought in front and in the rear. Fought as General Cleburne always fought. The Yankees charged our company seven lines deep, but our thin line held firm until some of the boys happened to discover a line of Infantry charging in the rear. Then they began to waver. Our Lieutenant Commander Clay jumped on top of the breastworks, waved his gun, (the sixteen-shooter which the officers of our company carried instead of sabres,) and called to his men to stand their ground. He was on the breastworks but a few minutes when he fell, pierced through by one of the thousand bullets fired at him. As he fell he saw for the first time why his men wavered. He ordered a hasty retreat to the right, and although dreadfully [Pg 59] wounded successfully threw the line of battle to the rear. He fell in my arms and I got him to an ambulance and sent him to a hospital. In Macon we had only one commissioned officer left, John R. Loftin.

We would have been eaten up entirely, but for the coming of night, which gave Hardee a chance to unite his corps and throw up intrenchments. He displayed fine generalship throughout this engagement. Hardee had been offered the command of the army in Tennessee before Hood took it but had replied: “General Johnston is the only man able to command this army, and I will not have it.” Here was another terrible defeat for the new leader. Our loss at Jonesboro was about 2,500 men. The Yanks put our captured men on the train and sent them back over the old route. The fort at Dalton was garrisoned by negro troops. A great number of these negroes were at the station when the prisoners arrived. They insulted our men, and tried to take them from the train, yelling, “No quarter, if we get you on the field.” If white troops had not come to protect them there would have been serious trouble.

Our corps camped on the Macon road. It was a dark night and was raining heavily. By the flashes of lightning we saw the train of army ambulances coming out of Atlanta, and we heard female voices singing Dixie and other Southern songs. These were brave women, non-combatants, driven from their homes by the infamous order of Sherman. They had no shelter, no provision and only the clothes they wore. Some bore nursing babes and one woman gave birth to a Dixie boy in the wagon train. Yet these glorious women would not show anguish or cry out to please the demon general. They shouted for Dixie and sang on their dreary ride. They went further South out of range of the beast of a general. He burned Atlanta and made war on women and children for the rest of the way on his infamous “march to the sea.” As long as he [Pg 60] had Johnston to fight he had no time for his diabolical deeds.

September 12th we marched to Palmetto and camped there, and President Davis came to review his thrice defeated army. Beforehand a general order was read, that no cheers should be given on this review. Never-the-less, when Davis reached the center of the troops every man on the field joined in one mighty volume of sound, “Hurrah for General Johnston.” They knew it would be impossible to court martial the entire army.

October 1st we crossed the Chattahoochee river at Moore Bridge. October 9th we crossed the Talacatacline river and went up the railroad as far as Dalton held by the negroes who had promised “no quarter” to our boys. General Cheatham detailed our brigade to guard the wagon train through a different route about four miles from Dalton, while he took Granberry’s Brigade and our Texas troops to attack the fort. As we fought side by side in so many hard battles the Texas men asked that the Arkansas regiment (not on the ground) should have the honor of charging the fort, and this General Cheatham promised. He surrounded the fort and demanded its surrender. This was refused. While the artillery made ready the Texans passed the word down the line as though it came from General Cheatham, “Kill every damn one of them,” which would have been carrying out their own threat of “no quarter.” However, they saved their necks by five minutes, for when the white officers saw they were overwhelmingly surrounded they gave up. The prisoners were put to work at tearing up the railroad track. One of the negroes protested against the work as he was a sergeant. When he had paid the penalty for disobeying orders the rest tore up the road readily and rapidly. That evening the Texas command moved over to us. We heard them yelling and singing but we did not know what had happened. They were guarding the negro prisoners, and were calling to us, “Here are your ‘no quarter’ negroes, [Pg 61] come and kill them!” The poor negroes, with eyes popped out nearly two inches, begged, prayed, and made all sorts of promises for the future. They soon moved on out of sight and the general turned them over to the engineering corps, where they did splendid service. This was better than killing them.

That day as the wagons were in skirmish line ready for attack we heard firing in front of our advance column. Everything stopped and we made ready for action. Advancing, we discovered the cause of the tumult. A squad of scouts, whose captain was a man with long red hair, had given a great deal of trouble to the Yankees in that vicinity. Because he was an Independent Scout he had been outlawed and a price was placed upon his head. He and his outlaws were desperate fellows and accepted “no quarter” clause. This squad was on our road and as it happened, met a squad of twenty-two Yankee scouts coming down the same road. The red-headed captain and his five men charged the superior squad, wounded six and killed four. The rest of the Yankees fled in haste. We were close upon them, so Red Head could not kill the wounded. He and his men took to the mountains and we never saw them again.

We passed through Cedar Town and Cave Spring, and camped on Coosa river. We passed through Center and camped on Terrapin Creek. We crossed Chuckluck mountains and camped at Jacksonville. We crossed Coosa at Gordon and camped on Sand mountain. We camped on Black Morgan river.

On October 27th we marched seven miles and camped in line around Decatur. It was a rainy night, so dark we could not see our file leader. If there were any roads we could not see them. It was impossible to finish the line of battle. The army had lost its way. I was standing beside the other boys holding to a small sapling when a new line came up, moving as best they could in a hog path, each man guessing at the way and calling to the man in front. A log about knee high lay across the path and I saw three [Pg 62] different soldiers strike that log and fall over it into the muddy slash. Each time the man’s gun went splashing ahead striking the fellow in front. There was cussin’ all along the line. Finally we ran out on the log and warned others who came along, turning them safely around that point. On October 28th we went further in, completed the line and fought the Battle of Decatur. The night after the battle it turned so cold we nearly froze to death, but we did not mind marching over frozen ground.

October 30th we marched thirty miles and passed Courtland, Alabama. On the 31st we marched twelve miles and camped at Tuscumbia. November 13th we crossed the Tennessee on a pontoon bridge at Florence. November 14th we built breastworks. On the 22nd we marched thirty-two miles and crossed the state line into Tennessee. On the 23rd we passed Warrenton, the 25th through Henryville, and the 26th through Mount Pleasant. We camped on General Pillow’s place. He had a grand old Southern home. A fine brick mansion, surrounded by beautiful groves with splendid driveways. He had his own church, a comfortable and pretty brick building. These cultured people of the best blood of the South lived in this ideal spot and educated their children by teachers who lived in the home. Two members of this family, Ed Pillow and J. D. Pillow, live in Helena, where they still keep up the family customs and traditions.

November 27th we marched nineteen miles and camped near Columbia. The enemy under Schofield had retreated from Mount Pleasant to Columbia and had entrenched in a formidable position. We went around them and crossing the Duck river on pontoon and rail bridges, we double-quicked to Spring Hill and engaged the enemy with Cleburne’s Division. Our regiment was one of the first in action, after the cavalry had skirmished with them. Night overtook us and we could not see to fight. Forrest wished to attack them, even in the night, but was not [Pg 63] permitted. As their force was much superior to ours, it would have been useless. Hood did not think they would retreat, but at daylight, when he began to complete his line, surrounding them, he discovered that they had flown to Franklin! With muffled cannon, silently and swiftly, Schofield had fled through the night.

Company G lost some good men at Spring Hill. We established a hospital there, with Dr. Brickie and Dr. Gray in charge to care for the wounded. We brought the ordnance from Columbia and followed the enemy.

The Yankees had been reinforced and had entrenched at Franklin, behind the works they had built some months before. In front of their works was an open field with not a tree or ravine for a mile and a half. Just before the breastworks was an open ditch six feet wide and three feet deep. At the end of the ditch next to the breastworks, were placed poles sharpened spear-shape. Their main works were six feet at the base. The cannon-breast portion was cut down so that the guns, resting on oak logs, were on a level with our bodies. Behind the whole was a thicket of locust trees, as close together as they could possibly grow. After the battle these trees were found to have been cut off level with the breastworks by Confederate balls.

As a description of this battle of Franklin, November 30, 1864, I insert an extract from the Park Marshall address delivered forty-eight years afterward:

“I was born at Franklin, and as a small boy I visited this battle field when the smoke had scarcely disappeared, and the impression of that morning is still in my memory. Without exaggeration I may say that the severest battle of modern history was fought on these plains. In the forefront of that battle there were not over 20,000 Union troops, not over 15,000 Confederates, yet the killed on one side was greater in two or three hours than occurred on any one day on one side in any other battle of the Civil War, except Antietam.

[Pg 64]

BEN ADLER.

[Pg 65]“All the generals objected to the charge. Forrest, the best cavalry leader in the South, begged Hood to change his murderous plan, saying, ‘I know every hog-path in this county, and I can show you a route which will give us a chance.’

“The lesser generals entered their protest along with the great generals. Men of world-wide fame, and privates too, had their opinion, but not the right to speak.

“To send soldiers against such a position was suicidal. Every man in the South available for service was in the field. When these men were killed the Confederacy was destroyed. Oh, for a Johnston before the fatal word was given! Against every protest Hood ordered the advance. What were Cleburne’s last words to his noble warrior boys?

“Boys, we are ordered to charge the works. I don’t think we can take them, but we can try. Forward!”

“In thirty minutes this glorious patriot’s blood was flowing upon the ground. The advance was made without a halt, but men were mowed down as wheat before the reaper. They marched to the breastworks and scaled the walls, but they were bayoneted on top of the works and fell over on the enemy. Seven dead generals were brought and laid on this porch—Cleburne, Granberry, Strahl, Gist, Carter and Adams. Adams fell, leaving his dead horse on the very crest of the breastworks. Cleburne’s horse fell also crossing the works. This is one of the most heroic pictures of the war.”

Sixty per cent of our army was killed and wounded. The enemy retreated to Nashville after the best day’s work (for them) they had ever done.

Our company had but one officer left. We were consolidated with Company B and the two together scarcely made a full company. The whole regiment was consolidated into six companies, instead of ten.

The enemy’s loss was slight compared with ours. The bravest of the blood of the South was poured out for nothing. Who was right, Johnston or Hood?

We followed Schofield to Nashville and invested that [Pg 66] post, but we were outnumbered, as he had been re-inforced from every quarter. He broke our line and captured about half of our regiment. My friend, Bob Bond was captured; Logan too, and many others.

We retreated in quick time. Near Spring Hill a squad of about fifty cavalrymen made a dash through our line, as we had stacked arms and were preparing to camp for the night, and went far to the rear. Coming along the pike, never dreaming of danger, were four soldiers, bearing a wounded man on a litter. The Yankee squad shot the doctor’s horse, wounding the doctor and killed one of the four soldiers. As the poor fellow fell, the wounded man rolled out on the pike. The front line, recovered from its surprise, grabbed the guns, surrounded the Yankees, captured them and made things lively for them for awhile.

We crossed the river at Columbia on two pontoon bridges, one for Forrest’s cavalry, being about two hundred yards below us, down the river. It was almost dark, but skirmishing was still going on, when Forrest’s pontoon broke loose, leaving him, his staff and about two hundred of his cavalry.

Our ordnance was crossing on our bridge, and all was over except two wagons. Our regiment was waiting on the bank. General Cheatham and his staff were at the top of the bank. General Forrest rode up to our bridge and was about to cut off the three wagons of ordnance when the driver whipped up his horses to join the other wagons. Forrest took his pistol and threatened to kill him if he attempted to go on the bridge ahead of the cavalry. The driver was quite plucky. He said his orders were to follow the ordnance train; if General Forrest did not like it he must go to higher officers. Forrest was furious. He spurred his horse and went to General Cheatham, swearing he would cross that bridge ahead of the ordnance. General Cheatham was perfectly calm, and explained that he wished to get the wagons over before night, and into camp, so he could lay his hands on his ordnance. Forrest was not pacified. He drew his pistol and threatened to shoot Cheatham, who rode to him at once, saying, “Shoot; I am not afraid of any man in the Confederacy.”

[Pg 67]

W. T. BARNES.
Now living at Marianna, Arkansas.

[Pg 68] The infantry with loaded guns, closed in around them, prepared to defend Cheatham. The cavalrymen, who had not heard what was said, came up the hill to see what was going on. Forrest’s adjutant plunged between the two generals and pulled Forrest down toward the bridge. By that time the wagons were over. So General Forrest and his troops crossed the bridge without further parley. It might have been a terrible tragedy. If either general had been killed, we would have had war right there.

Next day Forrest sent an apology to Cheatham, at least so it was reported. The affair was witnessed by our company, but it was kept quiet as we had troubles enough without fighting each other. Forrest was a great officer and a fine cavalry leader, but he was tyrannical and hot-headed.

December 20th we marched all day on the pike to Pulaski in a cold rain—a rain that froze on the trees. We had to sleep on the wet ground. Many men were barefooted and marched over the pike with bleeding feet. We were called the “straggling squad” because we had to march more slowly than the others, and we were between the infantry and the rear cavalry, commanded by Forrest. In his mind a straggler deserved death. When he came up to a poor little squad he struck one, a Lieutenant, who was in charge of the barefoot squad, over the head with his sword and ordered him to go on and keep up with his command. He would listen to no excuse, as if these barefooted men, braving sleet and snow with bleeding feet, were not doing their duty as loyally as any man in the army.

These incidents are a part of the unwritten history; merely a few things that I know to be facts in our army life with Company G.

We established a hospital at Pulaski to care for our sick and wounded, and left it in charge of Dr. Brickie. I went to the Colonel of our regiment and told him I feared Dr. Brickie would detail me to be his druggist; that I [Pg 69] wanted a pass so I could go on ahead and meet the command beyond the town. He gave it to me and I had gotten about half a mile beyond Pulaski, when I heard a horse galloping behind me. It was the Division Surgeon, Dr. L., who stopped me, saying, “Are you Bill Bevens of Company G, First Arkansas.”

“I am.”

“I detailed you to report to Dr. Brickie, corps surgeon in charge of Corps Hospital at Pulaski.”

“I won’t do it.”

“If you don’t, I will have you court-martialed.”

“All right, but I won’t go.”

After he rode away I thought more soberly. I had been in the army four years and had never been arrested. Perhaps I had better go. I went back, but I gave it to Dr. Brickie. I told him there were a hundred druggists in that army; why didn’t he get some other one? He answered that he had selected me because he knew I would not drink his whiskey nor give it away to “bums,” but keep it for the sick. I told him I would give away every spoonful of it. I told him it was all right for him to be captured. He would be paroled. But I should be sent to Johnson’s Island to freeze.

He said he would arrange that. He knew all the assistant surgeons and told them when we were captured they must address me as “Doctor.” He ordered Dr. Gray to take charge of Ward 4, but to call it my ward.

So the army went without me and I felt sad indeed. I had not been separated from my comrades before. But “It is not what you want that makes you fat, but what you have.”

Forrest’s cavalry was the last to leave. High officers would call on Dr. Brickie, cough and say they were ill, hoping he would give them a drink. He was a positive man and all men looked alike to him. The reply was always, [Pg 70] “Not a darned drop; it is for the sick and wounded.” The cavalry surgeons would beg for some, but to no purpose, for they got the same answer.

The infantry had been gone four days. Some of our patients had been taken to the homes of the good Southern women, some had gone with the cavalry, on horseback and in wagons. There was a big decrease in our hospital. About three o’clock in the afternoon Dr. Brickie told me I could go and gave me a pass. He added, “Here are ten plugs of tobacco; you can hire some of the cavalry fellows to let you ride, and you may keep up with them.”

I left him with a glad heart, but I did not know what I was up against. A lone web-foot to keep up with Forrest’s Cavalry! I was certainly used to hardships, but that was more than I could do, to save my life. I went over the muddy road until my wind was almost gone, and I had to rest. One of our boys belonging to Hardee’s Guards, came along and spying me, rode up to where I was saying, “Bill, is that you? You have too much baggage. Give me some of it, and I will deliver it to your regiment wagons when I get back to the army.”

I unloaded, rested for an hour and struck out again. The cavalry was ahead of me. I moved faster, for a Yankee rear does sometimes hurry a fellow.

I went all night; slept in the road and at daylight started again, making a good day’s march. Late in the evening I found I was near the cavalry again, so I made great strides to catch up. Ahead I saw a bridge across a stream and Forrest and his staff walking on the gravel bar. I hoped I could slip over before they saw me and handed the guard my pass. He said, “You will have to show it to General Forrest.” I was frightened sure enough. General Forrest did not care for passes or anything else when out of humor. I had faced a thousand Yankee guns, but I couldn’t face Forrest!

I waited some distance off, hoping he would go to an other part of the line, but he seemed to attend to that bridge himself. Finally he did walk away a few paces. [Pg 71] Then I ran up to the adjutant, showed him my pass, and he waved the guard to let me go over.

I tried to beat Forrest to the next bridge, but when I got there he was on the bank higher above it. By their firelight I could see the infantry across the river and I thought, “I am safe now.” When I reached the pontoon bridge over the Tennessee, the cavalry was crossing. I started across in the dark, but the guard stopped me. “You can’t cross here—pass or no pass—you will have to see General Forrest.” I argued with that guard, but it did no good. Then I thought to myself, “He will not shoot into his own men,” and I said, “I am going across and you may shoot me if you like.” I ran past him. He could not see me in the dark, or he might have shot.

After I got across the bridge I found that my command had gone two days before, so I camped all night by the straggler’s fire. It was one of the worst nights of the campaign. A biting cold wind was blowing and we fairly froze to the ground. For two days I followed my regiment. My rations gave out and I was trudging along the road, forlorn and very hungry, when I heard some one call me. It was a boy of Company G, detailed with the engineers’ corps. I stayed with him that night. He had plenty of grub and filled me up.

December 27th, we passed Tuscumbia and on the 29th we camped at Iuka. On this march we crossed Bear Creek on a railroad bridge. The mules were unhitched from the wagons and led across. When I got there a fine pair of mules were on the bridge. They got half way over, then mule-like, decided they would back a little, and they backed clear off the bridge and went under the water, head and ears, to the amusement of the web-foot soldiers.

January 1, 1865, we marched seven miles and camped near Corinth. Here we washed up, and felt of ourselves, to see if we were all there. Here I caught up with my command. I surely was glad to see the boys and they were to see me, for they supposed I was eating rats on Johnson’s Island. There were not many of us left. The killed, wounded and captured at Nashville had about finished the “shooting-match.”

[Pg 72]

ROBT. D. BOND.

We traveled over the Mobile & Ohio railroad to Tupelo, [Pg 73] from which place I was sent to Aberdeen to bring the medical wagons to Alesia, where they were to be put on cars and taken to South Carolina. At Richmond (while I was in Aberdeen) it was decided to give a furlough to seven men of every company, so we might visit our homes in Arkansas. The boys put my name in the hat and drew for me and I got it. The other boys who got furloughs left at Meridian to make their way to Arkansas. They meant to take chances at crossing the river to get home. I was waiting at the Alesia station to deliver my medical supplies. The officer who came to ship them said, “Isn’t your name Bill Bevens?” I said, “Yes.” “Well, you have a furlough for 120 days to go to Arkansas.” I said, “You are wrong. I never applied for one. Never have had one. I have been with the army nearly four years and have never seen Arkansas in all that time.”

But as the train flew by, the boys yelled at me that I had a furlough; so I went to see about it. It was at the Eighth Arkansas headquarters and I had no authority to stop. I had to go to South Carolina before I could get it. My crowd went without me.

I went on with the army. At Mobile some of us went again to the Battle House restaurant. We ate three rations in one meal, and our bill was one hundred and twenty dollars. Our paper currency had taken a great fall.

It was a cold ride down on the Mobile & Ohio railroad. The soldiers were thinly clad and few of them had shoes. One or two men froze, riding on top of the cars. We traveled to Milledgeville, Georgia, and from there we had to march over a forty mile gap to the Augusta road. I found my friends, Ed Dickinson, Ben Adler and Thad Kinman were still in Augusta. They got me a new gray suit with a long tail coat. I sure was dressed in the height of style, but my shoes hardly corresponded to my suit. They were not very stylish.

In South Carolina I got my furlough, told my comrades good-bye, and took letters from them to the home-folks.

[Pg 74]

Left to Right: THAD KINMAN, ED DICKINSON, BEN ADLER.
These were my friends who gave me good clothes instead of common,
regulation clothes. They belonged to the Quartermaster’s Department.

[Pg 75] General Cheatham was in a box car and I got on the same car. It was the first time I had seen him since the quarrel with Forrest. I told him I had a furlough and I wanted to get transportation. He seemed to doubt it and said, “Let me see your furlough.” He looked at the signature and he knew it was genuine.

Securing transportation I went back to Augusta. I went out to Belair, ten miles from the city, where my uncle had a summer residence. He was very kind to me. Next morning we went into the city and found a great commotion. General Beauregard was placing all stragglers in the guard house. My uncle said, “Son, you go back to Belair and I will see General Beauregard about it.” But I answered, “The general will have you in the guard house if you go to bothering him. I have an authority that ranks him or any general, as it is by order of the war department.”

When we went back to Belair that night my uncle presented me with a fine pair of boots which cost $100. Then my stylish outfit was complete. I told them good-bye, went to see Ed Dickinson, Ben Adler and Thad Kinman, and left for home.

I got to Forty Mile Gap. I had more baggage than when I went down. As I marched along one of the drivers of the four-mule wagons asked if I wanted to ride. A web-foot never refused. He said he would walk if I would ride and drive, but I told him I had never driven a four-mule team in my life.

“Oh, that’s all right,” said he, “the mules follow the wagon ahead without a driver.”

I rode his mule and drove his wagon, stylishly dressed, as I have said, in my long-tailed coat and fine new boots. The Virginia soldiers going on foot to their command, guyed me greatly. “When the war is over I bet that fellow will never tell that he drove a wagon train.” Then others would yell, “Don’t that guy look fine with his gay clothes on?” General Walthold came along and attracted by my dress, eyed me muchly. I did not know what was in my wagon, and to avoid inquiry, and trouble for [Pg 76] the driver, I began to whip up the mules, looking the other way. But that didn’t work. The general called out authoritatively, “What have you, sir, in that wagon?”

“Quartermaster’s supplies,” I answered, hastening on. Soon I passed the danger line for myself and the driver and was safe from any general (except a Yankee General!)

I stayed with the driver until two o’clock in the morning, when I had to leave for Milledgeville, to be in time for the outgoing train. I got there ahead of time, and witnessed one of the sad trials of refugees. An old man and his daughter, a beautiful young girl, were apparently in great haste to get their baggage off on the train, and seemed relieved when they had stowed away the last package. They themselves were just getting on the train when two policemen arrested the old man and started back to town with him. There were eight or ten Arkansas and Texas soldiers on the train. They could not see a nice young girl driven off the cars, and her father treated like a criminal. When she began to cry the crisis had arrived. They jumped off with their guns and pistols and took the old man from the policemen, gave him a pistol, saying, “Kill them both, and we will bury them right here.” The old man refused to shoot, but the policemen did not tarry, nor did they come back.

At Montgomery I was joined by Tobe Hicks, who was going to Helena, Arkansas. As he had come but lately from the Trans-Mississippi army on some war business, and knew the route across the river, I decided to stick to him.

We took a boat to Selma, on the Alabama river. There were many comrades on board and we passed the time in talking of the war. From Selma we went to Kingston, which was twenty-two miles from the railroad. We had to hurry to meet the train. We left at twelve o’clock and walked the ties to the junction, doing the twenty-two miles by seven o’clock. It was hard on Tobe Hicks. To our dismay we missed the train by five minutes and there was no other. We slept on the ground that night and [Pg 77] next morning started on the hundred mile walk to Meridian.

At Meridian we took the Jackson railroad, but had been on the train only three hours when we came to a wash-out bridge and had to walk again.

At Panola we gave a negro ten dollars to put us across the river in a skiff. Everywhere was water, water, water.

When we could go no further we fell in with four men going down Cold Water on a flat boat with two bales of cotton. We told our tale of woe and they agreed to let us go with them if we would pull the boat. Although we had always lived on a river, we had never played deck hands. But this was no time to be dignified. We laid hold of the oars and played deck hand for two days and a night. They were hard steamboat men. We could stand it no longer. Late in the afternoon Tobe said, “Let’s land here.” We landed and took off our traps. They tried to bully us into going on, but we were used to bluffs, and they couldn’t work it.

By walking ridges and wading sloughs, we came to the Mississippi. It was miles wide. We went to the house of a man whom Hicks knew. He told us the Yankees had patrol boats out every night and we would certainly be captured. We were between the devil and the deep blue sea. If we went back we would be captured; if we went on we would be captured. But danger had been our meat and drink for four years. We decided to build a raft of cedar logs, huge and square and long and light. We built it in a slough, back from the river, and when it was finished, we went to eat supper with this friend and bid him good-bye. Crossing the Mississippi at night on a raft could never be the safest journey in the world. With the Yankee patrol boat ready to capture us the danger was doubled.

But our friend said he knew of a man who had a skiff (if the Yankees had not burned it) that he would come for us if we could make him hear. We called and to our joy the fellow answered. He landed us at the mouth of [Pg 78] St. Francis river about one o’clock in the morning, and we gave him our watches and other valuables in payment for his services.

We had to wade again, but we hurried on. At last we came to the parting of the ways, for Hicks was going to Helena and I to Jacksonport. We felt rather sad at separating after walking, wading, riding, playing deckhand and building rafts together.

To guide me Hicks gave me the names of all the men on the road who were o. k. About two o’clock in the morning I called up one of these o. k. men and asked to stay all night. He laughed and said, “It is day now.”

I told him I had been up all night and must walk for my life that day. I must have two hours’ sleep—on the floor, anywhere.

He told me the Yankees would capture me, but if they came I could run out the back door to the wood behind. He called me at four o’clock for a cup of coffee and a good breakfast, gave me nice lunch for noon, and I was walking on the slippery road before daylight. I walked for my life and made forty miles that day. When ready to pick out a place for the night I went to a house to find out where I was. The good woman saw that I was a rebel, and asked me what was my command.

“Cleburne’s old Division, Govan’s Brigade, Army of Tennessee,” I answered.

She burst out crying, “For God’s sake go on,” she said, “Last night they captured my son from the same command.”

I declared I was not tired at all, and had a half hour more of daylight anyhow. She told me how to get off the big road and where to stay all night. I went five miles further and when I asked for a night’s lodging the good citizen had to be shown my furlough. Then he was glad [Pg 79] to see me, gave me a fine supper and a good bed, and went with me next morning to show me the short cuts.

That day I went through the prairie, nine miles of sage grass. All day it poured rain, rain, rain. When about half way across there came a terrific cloudburst and I was nearly drowned. I thought, “Oh, to think that, after my perilous crossing of the great Mississippi, I should be drowned on a prairie so near home.” I held my blanket over my head and out in front of me, so that I could breathe, and that saved me. Before I got to the next house I poured the water out of my boots and washed my socks. I pulled off my pants and washed them. I did this because I was afraid the family would not let such a muddy straggler stay all night. But they were nice to me.

I resumed my journey at daybreak. Bayou Deview was out of its banks. I waded to the channel, waist deep. I do not know how long I was about it, but I finally got across and saw the sand ridges and the big home road.

I had to cross Cache river at Gray’s Ferry. As a boy I had known Dr. Gray but he did not know me. I went to the house, introduced myself, and showed him my furlough. He asked when I crossed the Mississippi. I told him. Had I walked all the way? I told him I had. Was I any relation of Judge Bevens of that district? I told him Judge Bevens was my uncle. He finished by saying, “You have walked all the way from St. Francis river and have not stolen a horse?” I told him I was a gentleman, not a horse thief. He said, “Certainly, I will put you across the Cache river.” He called to a negro to bring two horses, and we rode about a mile to the ferry. There a man met us with a skiff and took me across. I went on my way and began to know the landmarks. When I reached the fork of the roads, (one leading to Augusta; the other to Jacksonport), I sat down to rest. Jim Howell, the deputy sheriff rode up. He looked at me for a minute, then shouted, “Why, is that you, Bill Bevens, what in hell are you doing here?”

I showed him my furlough and told him about my journey. He made me ride, while he walked to his house, [Pg 80] a few miles up the road. Then he put a little negro up behind me to ride some miles further.

I met Bill Campbell, who lost a leg at Shiloh. He wanted me to stay and talk, but I was headed for home and would not stop. I went on to Colonel McCoy’s at Tupelo. I spent the night with Bruce Waddell. He lost a leg at Shiloh. It was the first time I had seen him since. I helped carry him off the field. It was a happy meeting, and we talked nearly all night. He sent a little negro with me to Village Creek. I crossed in a canoe and walked the rest of the way—six miles—to Jacksonport.

Home again! Was it only four years ago that the Jackson Guards had marched to the Presbyterian church to receive its banner from loving hands? How many miles we had traveled. How many battles we had fought. How many wretched homes and blazing cities we had seen. The sorrows, wounds, sufferings and deaths of centuries were crowded into those four years. Oh, the pity of it!

I went straight to my sister’s home. Her little girls were dressed in long clothes, “playing lady.” Their mother was at a neighbor’s and one of them went for her, not telling her why she was wanted at home. Her surprise at seeing me was great, and our meeting joyous beyond words.

She and the children went with me to father’s home in the next county. My mother had not heard from me, and she did not know whether I was alive or dead. She fell on my neck, cried, laughed, shouted. She almost died of joy. Father was too happy, and too full for utterance.

Mother would look at me for hours and could not talk for joy. Her dear soul was never happier than now with her dear soldier boy safe at home, surrounded by loved ones. God gives no boy a better heritage than such a sweet Christian home and such love.

With her boy a thousand of miles away, and no mails, her prayers for him were the only connecting links. The boy on the field of death remembered his mother’s [Pg 81] prayers and was comforted in every danger.

I was unaccustomed to sleeping in a house, and at first used to take my blanket to the yard, but mother could not stand that and I had to go back. My sisters would look under rocks and planks and in various hiding places and bring out my jewelry and other treasures which they had hidden from the Yankees.

Before my furlough was out came the news of General Lee’s surrender at Appomattox. The long cruel war was over and I was separated no more from my home and mother. At Jacksonport I met the boys who had been furloughed with me, but had reached home first—John R. Loftin, Forrest Dillard, Haggerton and others. It was good to be with the old comrades once more. We took up our work again. I began selling drugs. I married here and am still in Jackson county, at Newport, Arkansas.

(THE END.)

[Pg 82] Jacksonport, Ark., April 24, 1877.

At an informal meeting called at Col. L. C. Gause’s law office, the following members of the old Jackson Guards, or Company “G,” First Arkansas Regiment, Infantry, were present:

L. C. Gause, John R. Loftin, M. A. Mull, Clay Lowe, Peter Bach and W. E. Bevens. Also by invitation Frank W. Lynn.

On motion, L. C. Gause was chosen temporary chairman and W. E. Bevens temporary secretary. By consent of those present, we propose to organize the old Jackson Guards and all members are invited and solicited to invite and solicit all members they see and know of, and ask all to meet at Col. L. C. Gause’s law office on Saturday, April 28th, 1877, to get up a re-organization and celebration by the 5th day of May, and the secretary is ordered to invite those of the Company we know of at a distance to be with us on the 5th day of May, 1877. Also to invite General F. Fagan; also John W. Colquitt, our last Colonel.

A committee on finance was appointed by the president, Peter Bach. Also a committee consisting of the following persons: John R. Loftin, W. E. Bevens, Peter Bach, M. A. Mull, Clay Lowe, to look after the dinner and see when we will have it and at what hour, and make preparations for the same. Col. L. C. Gause was appointed a committee of one to draw up resolutions of re-organization, also to address the meeting and to invite Captain J. C. Matthews and wife and all the widows of the Jackson Guards. Also to invite Frank W. Lynn.

Meeting adjourned to meet on Saturday, April 28th, 1877, at Col. L. C. Gause’s office.

L. C. GAUSE, President.
W. E. BEVENS, Secretary.

[Pg 83] Jacksonport, Ark., May 4th, 1877.

At a regular meeting of the Jackson Guards at the residence of Mart A. Mull, the following members were present:

L. C. Gause, temporary chairman; W. E. Bevens, temporary secretary; John R. Loftin, H. Clay Lowe, Peter Bach, G. K. Stephens, John Cathey, F. W. Dillard, W. D. Shackleford, Jasper May, Frank Richardson, J. B. Waddell, James Hudson, Robert D. Bond, M. A. Mull.

The following resolutions were adopted:

RESOLVED:

That We, the surviving members of the Jackson Guards, for the purpose of re-organizing ourselves for a social re-union, will annually on the 5th day of May, elect from our members the following officers: One President; One Vice President; One Secretary and Treasurer; and the President shall appoint three members as an executive committee to serve one year and shall exercise the powers and perform the duties usual to such offices respectively.

ON MOTION:

The secretary be ordered to publish four weeks before the next annual meeting, in both County Newspapers, notices when and where it shall be held.

RESOLVED:

That the Jackson Guards do hereby tender their sincere thanks to Mrs. Laura Ewing for the beautiful bouquet tendered us on this occasion.

RESOLVED:

By the Jackson Guards, that our sincere thanks be hereby tendered Mr. M. A. Mull and kind lady for the hospitable donation of their home for our re-union, and grand dinner at which we have had the time of our lives talking over old times once more and for their supervision over the same.

RESOLVED:

That our thanks are also tendered our Lady Friends and wives for their presence and assistance in our dinner.

[Pg 84] We, the undersigned surviving members of the Jackson Guards agree to organize ourselves in accordance with the foregoing resolution:

- L. C. Gause,
- W. E. Bevens,
- H. Clay Lowe,
- Peter Bach,
- G. K. Stephens,
- John A. Cathey,
- F. W. Dillard,
- M. A. Mull,
- W. D. Shackelford,
- John R. Loftin,
- Jasper May,
- Frank Richardson,
- J. B. Waddell,
- Robt. D. Bond,
- James Henderson,

A. C. Pickett was elected President.

L. C. Gause was elected Vice President.

The President not being present the Vice President presided and appointed the following as an executive committee:

- J. B. Waddell,
- Mart A. Mull,
- John R. Loftin.

ON MOTION:

The following members were appointed to assist in perfecting the organization:

H. Clay Lowe, F. W. Dillard, Robt. D. Bond, and on motion L. C. Gause was added.

ON MOTION:

Of Mr. Clay Lowe, the following resolution was adopted:

WHEREAS, Since the organization of this Company sixteen years ago, many of our Brave Comrades have passed away, many on the battlefield, daring and dying for their Country, others from disease, therefore,

RESOLVED, That we will ever cherish their memory, emulate their virtues and honor their heroism, and that as a testimonial of our love and respect we erect, at an early day as possible a suitable monument to the dead [Pg 85] of the Jackson Guards.

- L. C. Gause,
- W. E. Bevens,
- H. C. Lowe,
- Peter Bach,
- G. K. Stephens,
- F. W. Dillard,
- W. D. Shackelford,
- John R. Loftin,
- John Cathey,
- Jasper May,
- Frank Richardson,
- J. B. Waddell,
- James Hudson,
- Robert A. Bond,
- W. T. Barnes,
- M. A. Mull.

Those who have answered our Call but could not come:

- Captain A. C. Pickett,
- Wm. Bunnell,
- Lyman B. Gill,
- B. F. McCowan,
- Lem McKee,
- Lon Steadman,
- Luther Steadman,
- John Murphy,
- Jerry Love,
- George W. Roberts,
- Austin Choate,
- Mart Howard.

All of whom are the total known living at that time, (1877.)

And now, March 5th 1913, there are only living, as far as we know, out of 154 members on May 5, 1861:

- John Loftin,
- Lon Steadman,
- John Cathey,
- Luther Steadman,
- W. T. Barnes,
- W. E. Bevens.

THE ORIGINAL MUSTER ROLL OF COMPANY “G”
FIRST ARKANSAS REGIMENT, INFANTRY,
JACKSON GUARDS.

- Colonel James Fagan’s Regiment,
- General Polk’s Brigade,
- General D. C. Govan’s Brigade,
- Cleburne’s Division,
- Hardee Corps,
- Army of Tennessee.

[Pg 86]

FIRST OFFICERS ELECTED MAY 5TH, 1861.

- 1. Captain A. C. Pickett in 1862, Colonel of Stearns. Mo., 8 Regiment.
- 2. 1st Lieutenant L. C. Gause in 1862, Col. of 32 Ark. Regiment.
- 3. 2nd Lieut. L. L. Moore, Discharged.
- 4. 3rd Lieutenant George Paine, Discharged.

NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS.

3rd. First Sergeant James F. Hunter, transferred.
2nd Sergeant W. B. Densford, discharged over age.
3rd Sergeant John R. Loftin.
4th Sergeant Peter Bach, wounded by Cliff Dowell.
5th Sergeant H. C. Lowe.
First Corporal John M. Waddell.
2nd Corporal Sam Shoup.
3rd Corporal Henry Clements.
4th Corporal W. E. Bevens.

OFFICERS FROM MARCH 1862 to 1865.

- 5. Captain Sam Shoup, wounded on July 22nd at Atlanta.
- 6. 1st Lieut. A. T. Walthall, killed at Kennesaw Mountains.
- 7. 2nd Lieut. H. C. Lowe, wounded at Chickamauga and Jonesboro.
- 8. 3rd Lieut. John R. Loftin.

PRIVATES.

- 9. W. T. Barnes, detailed with Bond.
- 10. Robert D. Bond, wounded at Atlanta, captured at Nashville.
- 11. W. H. Baker, discharged over age.
- 12. George W. Baker, transferred to Georgia Regiment.
- 13. Ben B. Bradley.
- 14. William Bunnell, transferred to Navy Department.
- 15. John Baird, wounded at Mobile Bay.
- 16. T. H. Brogden, killed by James Garrett.
- 17. T. A. Byler.
- 18. J. J. Bobo, detailed to drive ambulance.
- 19. John Boiler.
- 20. J. K. Bedwell, died.
- 21. Edward Burnett, killed at Kennesaw.
- 22. John Baldridge, wounded and captured at Franklin.
- 23. Alex Baldridge, wounded at Franklin.
- 24. W. E. Bevens, wounded at Shiloh.
- 25. Pete Bach, wounded by Cliff Dowell.
- 26. W. H. Clayton, killed at Golgotha.
- 27. William Cooper, died.
- 28. Jack Conn, discharged from sickness.
- 29. John A. Cathey, wounded at Shiloh.
- 30. Austin Choate, wounded and discharged.
- 31. F. Collins.
- 32. John Carpenter.
- 33. B. L. Covey.
- 34. Henry Clements, wounded at Franklin.
- 35. E. V. Dale, killed at Shiloh.
- 36. George F. Dickson, transferred.
- 37. Ed Dempsey, wounded.
- 38. Richard Dorsey, discharged.
- 39. Thomas B. Davis, died at Dalton.
- 40. Allen Davis, killed at Bentonville.
- 41. Clifton Dowell, who wounded Peter Bach.
- 42. F. W. Dillard.
- 43. Ben H. Ferrell, discharged over age.
- 44. J. F. Ferrell.
- 45. James Falcher.
- 46. James Garrett, who killed Brogden, transferred.
- 47. S. S. Gause, transferred.
- 48. Arthur Green, killed at Murfreesboro.
- 49. Lyman B. Gill.
- 50. E. Haggerton, detailed with Pioneer Corps.
- 51. Robert Harl.
- 52. John D. Heitt.
- 53. James M. Hensley, wounded at Ringold, killed at Atlanta.
- 54. Dan Hays, discharged over age.
- 55. John E. A. Harl, killed at Shiloh.
- 56. Jonathan Harrison, wounded at Shiloh.
- 57. James Hudson.
- 58. Martin Howard, wounded and transferred to Navy.
- 59. Richard Hayden, transferred to Trans-Miss. Dept.
- 60. Joseph Hamilton, transferred.
- 61. W. H. Hunter.
- 62. Joseph Hubbard, killed at Nashville.
- 63. W. H. Henson, died.
- 64. Robert A. Hail
- 65. James F. Hunter, transferred.
- 66. Lou Harl.
- 67. Dave Kelley, died.
- 68. B. F. Kinman, discharged.
- 69. John Lamb.
- 70. Joseph Joslin, transferred.
- 71. Wilson Love.
- 72. Joe Lax, died.
- 73. Jerry D. Love, wounded.
- 74. John D. Love.
- 75. Nathen Love.
- 76. A. R. Logan, killed at Golgotha.
- 77. T. Shannon, wounded at Ringold, captured at Franklin.
- 78. Pat Murphy, furnished substitute.
- 79. Lemuel McKee, wounded.
- 80. Wm. M. Mathews, wounded at Murfreesboro.
- 81. J. H. Murphy, discharged.
- 82. Jasper May, wounded.
- 83. Mart A. Mull, wounded at Chickamauga.
- 84. John Moore, transferred.
- 85. D. Myers, wounded.
- 86. W. H. Moore, killed at Shiloh.
- 87. John A. McDonald, wounded.
- 88. J. McLain, killed at Shiloh.
- 89. B. F. McCowan, wounded.
- 90. Dave McCullough, transferred.
- 91. W. M. McCartney, discharged.
- 92. W. A. Myers.
- 93. Robert Morris, discharged.
- 94. John M. Murphy.
- 95. Dave Mulligan.
- 96. John K. Murphy, discharged.
- 97. Michael Nash, transferred.
- 98. John Orric, died.
- 99. W. P. Pinkley, killed at Chickamauga.
- 100. Henry Powell, discharged.
- 101. Jack Porter, discharged.
- 102. J. P. K. Prichard, discharged.
- 103. Y. R. Ridley, detailed to General Holmes’ Guard.
- 104. G. A. Raney, discharged, over age.
- 105. J. W. Robinson.
- 106. J. R. Roberts.
- 107. G. W. Reager.
- 108. Geo. W. Roberts, transferred to Morgan Cavalry.
- 109. Joseph R. Roberts, wounded at Missionary Ridge.
- 110. W. H. C. Reed, wounded at Munsfordsville, Ky.
- 111. John M. Rodgers, wounded.
- 112. B. F. Richardson.
- 113. J. W. Readen.
- 114. George Rice, wounded at Shiloh.
- 115. B. F. Reeves, wounded in Cairo.
- 116. Fred Roy.
- 117. David Roby, transferred.
- 118. H. Ratcliff.
- 119. Arthur Rhodes, dead.
- 120. D. Shackleford, detailed in Government shops.
- 121. Alfred Stewart, killed at Franklin.
- 122. Tom R. Stone, transferred to Mississippi Army.
- 123. James M. Stimson, killed at Jonesboro.
- 124. Charley Steadman, killed at Ringold.
- 125. Lon Steadman.
- 126. Luther Steadman.
- 127. Joseph Sample, discharged.
- 128. George K. Stephens, discharged.
- 129. Henry Smith, died.
- 130. R. H. Sullivan, discharged.
- 131. R. L. Slaughter.
- 132. Pony Stewart, killed at Franklin.
- 133. Eli Stringfellow, discharged.
- 134. J. H. Sherr.
- 135. George Sparling, wounded.
- 136. James Seward, discharged.
- 137. John B. Trail.
- 138. George P. Thomas, wounded at Murfreesboro, killed at Atlanta.
- 139. M. N. Tucker, discharged.
- 140. Joseph Vaughn.
- 141. B. F. Vanderfer, wounded.
- 142. B. F. Vanderfer, lost a leg at Shiloh.
- 143. Boon Winneham.
- 144. —— Winneham, killed.
- 145. W. D. Winneham.
- 146. Beverly Willard, discharged over age.
- 147. B. F. Whitely.
- 148. B. F. White.
- 149. John Wilson, discharged over age.
- 150. John M. Waddell, discharged from sickness.
- 151. J. B. Waddell, lost a leg at Shiloh.
- 152. W. Fletcher Williams, wounded.
- 153. Rawlings Young.

Surgeon of First Arkansas Regiment—Dr. T. R. Ashford.
Assistant Surgeon of First Arkansas Regiment—Dr. W. E. Arnold.
Killed 19, discharged 29, wounded 38, dead 8, detailed 4, transferred 18.

LIST OF ARKANSAS COMPANIES.

- Company A, from Eldorado, Capt. Asa Morgan.
- Company B, from Arkadelphia, Capt. Starks.
- Company C, Camden, Capt. Crenshaw.
- Company D, Pine Bluff, Capt. Dan McGregor.
- Company E, Benton, Capt. W. A. Crawford.
- Company F, Little Rock, Capt. W. H. Martin.
- Company G, Jacksonport, Capt. A. C. Pickett.
- Company H, DeWitt, Capt. Robt. Crockett.
- Company I, Monticello, Capt. Jackson.
- Company K, St. Charles, Capt. Boswell.

The following is a list of the battles that the Jackson Guards, or Company “G.” 1st Arkansas Regiment Infantry, was engaged in, from 1861 to 1865:

First Battle, Manassas, Blockade of Potomac at Evansport, Shiloh, Farmington, Corinth, Perryville, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Ringold Gap, 74 days’ battle from Dalton to Atlanta, Peachtree Creek, Atlanta, and Murfreesboro.

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